


The Journey Home

by cemetrygatess



Series: Love Don't Come Easy (or The Journey Home Verse) [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: But in the meantime... angst, Clueless Julian Bashir, Eventual Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Julian searches for meaning, Julian's hero complex, Julian's relationship with overworking, Lots of glances, M/M, Mutual Pining, Our boys have emotional problems, POV Julian Bashir, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Cardassia, Slow Burn, Some Garak POV, Worldbuilding, Yearning, and short touches, as a treat, it's about the YEARNING!, lots of sweet domesticness, post cannon cardassia has terrible food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 64,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemetrygatess/pseuds/cemetrygatess
Summary: After the Dominion war, Julian is aimless. Circumstances force him to face the one person he's been avoiding: Elim Garak. Julian must reckon with the consequences of war, and finally face the reality about his relationship with Garak. Garak also has decisions to make about who he wants to be in a brave new Cardassia.The journey home is never an easy one.
Relationships: Elim Garak & Kelas Parmak, Julian Bashir & Kelas Parmak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Love Don't Come Easy (or The Journey Home Verse) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155734
Comments: 283
Kudos: 279





	1. Rethinking

It was a morning like many others in the past seven months since the war had ended. It was quiet and peaceful. Neither he nor Ezri was on duty that morning, so they stayed in bed, her head on his bare chest. Julian was sleepy, content. He played with her hair. Ezri felt soft and small lying next to him, and for a second Julian thought he may finally have things figured out.

“So I was thinking tonight we could do the Battles of Lexington and Concord in the holosuites. I know you think I only like lost causes so I promise we can win this one.”

“Julian, I don’t think this is going to work,” she said softly, apologetically.

“What do you mean?” Julian was tired and thought he must have heard incorrectly. He blinked and squinted at her in confusion.

“We have had fun, but I’ve been offered an opportunity to switch to command, and the more I think about it, the more I want to do it.”

“You can do that here, can’t you? I’m sure Kira would be happy to have you,” Julian said, his voice becoming pleading against his will.

“Oh yes, I think she would. But the more I integrate my past hosts, the more I begin to realize what Trills mean about reassociation.”

“Jadzia and I were never…” even Julian could hear the defensiveness in his voice. It made him feel ashamed.

“No but you wanted to be!” Ezri’s eyes were sharp now.

“That was a lifetime ago, feels like a lifetime ago even for me.” But Julian could tell he didn’t really mean it.

“This Dax deserves a new life, not just to live in the shadow of Jadzia.”

Julian touched her hair softly, sweeping the bangs off her forehead. He smiled warmly, but Ezri saw a sadness in his eyes. When a Dax decided something like this there was no use arguing.

“Yes of course. When do you leave?”

“I have a few days. I really am sorry Julian.”

“I really do love you Ezri.”

“I know. That’s why I have to go.”

“I think I understand.” She lay her head on his chest again and they lay in silence for a momentary eternity.

***

Julian wasn’t taking the breakup well. He knew it, Quark knew it, everyone knew it. He sat at the bar nursing his 3rd synthale of the night, looking down swishing around the blue liquid, and then staring a bit more.

“Doctor, I know you’re broken up about this breakup but isn’t anything I can do to put a smile on your face?” Quark said from behind the bar. His spirits seemed unusually good, almost rudely so.

“Not particularly. Besides wouldn’t you rather I keep spending my latinum here, throwing away all my so-called potential?” Julian waved his hands dramatically at that, and Quark tried to smile reassuringly. “Well, what are you so happy about anyway Quark?”

“Listen, Bashir. You had the perfect girl, you lost the perfect girl. Now, the perfect girl is single, and a regular patron of my bar, but only once your moping stops or is relocated.” Quark said matter-a-factly.

Julian sunk down and put his head in his hands. “I HAD the **perfect** girl.”

“Now now nothing to beat yourself up over, Doctor. Come now you’re not really the type to keep a girl. Gives the rest of us a chance.”

Julian sunk lower, his head nearly touching the bar. “You’re not going to steal my girlfriend Quark”

“Ex-girlfriend!” Quark interjected. 

“Because she’s leaving the station in 3 days for a permanent position on the USS Franklin!”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed. I’m surprised, Quark, it’s usually you telling me gossip, not the other way around.”

“Well I suppose I was so distracted by the idea of Dax finally coming around to the fact that I’m what she needed all along that it blinded me to more worldly considerations.”

“Quite.” Quark poured him another synthale, looking rather lost himself.

***

Julian pulled himself together to see Ezri off the station. The air felt charged with his anxiety, with the hustle and bustle of folks loading onto the transport.

“Thanks for seeing me off, Julian.” Ezri said, her eyes lit with energy, clearly anticipating what would come in the next several days. How could Julian be mad when she looked so happy, so full of life? Why was it that he always seemed to be holding back the women he loved? Leeta, Sarina, now Ezri. All clearly more alive with him out of their lives.

“I know things can be awkward with exes but hopefully in time we can be friends.” Julian said, forcing a smile. 

“I’d like that a lot. I wish things could have been different.” Ezri looked like she meant it.

“Maybe in another life” said Julian, his face beginning to betray his true feelings.

“Maybe.” Ezri gave Julian a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. “Take care of yourself, Julian.”

He watched her walk away, feeling sorry for himself. And under his breathe he said “Oh I will. Always do.”

***

With hardly any friends left aboard the station, time passed in fits. He’d lose days staring into research on Bajoran T-cell anomalies or at the bottom of a synthale at Quark’s. The only things Julian looked forward to were the occasional subspace holos from Miles about teaching at the academy, and letters from Garak about reconstruction on Cardassia Prime. Even though he treasured these communications, he found his replies becoming shorter and shorter, with little to report.

It had been a slow day, and Bashir had returned home to find a long and flowing letter from Garak.

_My Dear Doctor,_

_I shall try not to take the increasingly infrequent nature of your replies to mean you don’t wish to hear from me. If that is the case you must admit to it directly. If not, I will continue assuming you are a busy and important Federation doctor, and not somehow personally feeling slighted by me. Perhaps this brave new Cardassia is bringing out my sentimental side, but it would pain me greatly were my letters not welcome._

_My work with Dr. Parmak has become more limited, as the number of unburried dead diminishes. For all Dr. Parmak’s charms, I cannot say I am sad this work is coming to a close. This new Cardassia comes at a great cost, Julian. It comes because we cannot return to a state which allows such horrors to its own citizens. The Cardassia I was loyal to for so many years was a beast, which having destroyed so many other worlds finally turned to a final and violent self-harm. Burying so many dead has taught me much. Whatever new world we build here, the cost was too great._

_This diminished workload allows me to begin to transition to my true passions - gardening and tailoring. Cardassia needs someone who can grow, someone who can mend. I find it highly ironic that now, this old tailor is finally serving Cardassia unambiguously. Oh I always thought I was serving, but it was men like me who brought us here. All I can hope is that men like me can change._

_And change I have, Doctor! Why when I first returned, I found Dr. Parmak’s talk of democracy on Cardassia was well meaning yet delusioned. Now, I find I am a believer. We cannot go back to the old ways, and I find I do not have a better solution. Perhaps after so many lunches, it was you who indoctrinated me with your Federation values. If so, I cannot even find myself mad. After so many years arguing with you about it, I find I have nothing more to say on the matter, and that this once you can count yourself the winner._

_Should you ever want to travel to Cardassia Prime, your company is always welcome._

_Yours,_

_Elim Garak_

Reading the letter, one of many like that had come before it, Julian felt a twinge of something. Jealousy? Embarrassment? Shame? Garak was building something. What was Julian doing? If he were to write a reply, what was there to say? Oh Garak, I’m just still really sad about my breakup, please comfort me as you piece your broken world together. How unimportant, how trivial. Or as if he would care about the daily minutiae of DS9. Oh Garak, my work feels unfulfilling, and I struggle to see the point. Or perhaps most mortifying: Elim do you really mean it, about me being welcome? 

_Elim -_

_Your letter is a rare bright spot in an otherwise monotonous week. Let me unequivocally assure you my terse replies come only from my own current dissatisfaction. And I must admit I cannot imagine you want the collected works of just how one Dr. Julian Bashir finds himself once again single and alone. It’s simply too mortifying for all involved._

_The world is different now isn’t it? I shouldn’t have ever imagined I would get a letter supporting democracy from you. A famous earth politician Winston Churchill once said “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others”. Perhaps this is a sentiment to which you can relate._

_May your plants grow well and your stitches be tidy._

_Best wishes,_

_Julian_

He stared his writing for a while, and then deleted it. It felt hollow. Like a shadow of all their friendship had been. Just as he was really beginning to feel sorry for himself, his com badge came to life. It was Kira. 

“Doctor - when you have time would you come to my office.”

***

“Julian, I want to talk about how you’ve been doing lately.”

“I…”

“I’m not your counselor, and I don’t want to be your counselor, but as your friend I can see you’re not happy here anymore.” She stood up pacing. This office really suited her Julian thought distantly.

“I mean we both know there’s been a lot of change here, Nerys. It’s natural to adjust a little.”

“Yes, and if it was only a little we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Nearly every night I see you alone in Quark’s. I’ve even heard you’ve struck up a friendship with Morn.”

“He’s a very interesting guy if you get to know him” Julian said hopefully.

“No Doctor, I know you’re not happy here. Miles is gone, Dax is gone, Worf is gone. And while of course DS9 is always happy to use your medical talents, I think it’s time you think about what next.” Kira’s voice turned from harsh to gentle at the end there. It was too much, always the interest in his personal life, from the very second he had stepped on DS9, he felt people were far too interested in him. He just wanted to keep his head down. To keep his job. Old instincts from hiding his genetic status stayed deep. 

“Odo left but I don’t see you leaving!” Bashir knew it was a step too far the second he said it. Kira’s eyes turned icy cold for a second. But command was changing her. Her reply came in more level-headed.

“Bajor is my home, Doctor. Odo or not I serve Bajor here. I do not think you can say the same.”

He couldn’t.

“I…”

“Listen, I’m not going to push you out. There’s no rush. And if you can convince yourself this is really the best place for you, well I would stupid to make you leave. But Julian, as your friend – I think you have to seriously consider moving on.”

Julian nodded and headed out of Kira’s office and into ops. A sea of new faces where there had once been friends faced him. He had a lot to think about.

***

When the war had ranged on, Julian longed for nothing more than for it to end. He had thought he would be happy to be free of it, the constant anxiety of death and destruction. And to be sure he was. He was happy to not look at the list of names each week and see how many friends and colleagues he would never see again. At first, he’d felt so light, so airy, so in love with Ezri that nothing else had mattered, even his sadness over Miles leaving had been blunted. He’d finally met the girl! And won her too!

But alas Ezri Dax had been such a breath of fresh air he’d allowed it to be all he let fill his lungs. And now, with her gone, he didn’t know what there was to fill them with. Without her as a constant distraction, Julian wondered if he hadn’t been unhappy all along.

Daxs seemed to have a particular wisdom, he doubted she’d been wrong to leave him, even if it hurt his ego desperately even to think so. As the months passed, there settled in his chest a tightness that did not leave. He felt restless and tired all at the same time.

He wanted to go home badly, but where? Earth? Paris? No. And Kira was right, DS9 had been home because of Miles, Dax, and all the others. Without those friends, it was just another space station. Kira was right to tell him to go, but where?


	2. Another Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian makes a plan

Julian walked confidently into Kira’s office.

“I know where I want to go next, but I need your help,” Julian stated.

“Yes, go on,” Kira said, looking up from several padds on her desk.

“I want to go to the founders' homeworld, and to get them to help me with a cure for the Quickening. I know my time on Deep Space 9 is nearing its end, but I cannot leave with this work unfinished.”

The surprise showed all over Kira’s face.

“I know, I know I gave them a vaccine and would be enough for many doctors. But I simply cannot leave so many to suffer. Imagine the children born only a few years too soon! Odo is with the founders now, and he should have the knowledge to help me undo some of the suffering they caused.”

“That’s a wonderful idea Julian! But why do you need my help?”

“I floated this idea to Starfleet several months ago, but ever since the war ended they’ve been content to leave the Gamma quadrant well enough alone. Well I can’t say I entirely blame them, but for a whole planet of people to have their lives back, well I think it’s worth it.”

“And you’re hoping I’ll ask for StarFleet to send you. And that as a high ranking Bajoran officer that will carry weight,” Kira stated firmly.

“I.. well yes. I thought you might have a little more leverage, since The Federation is so keen to have Bajor join.” Julian looked rather sheepish, and Kira could tell he knew just how much he was asking of her.

“Well you know what I will say to them… Very bold to have this so-called Federation built on these high and mighty ideals and then to not put their money where their mouth is! Really does make you wonder if this is the sort of organization Bajor ought to seriously consider joining!” Kira wasn’t really worked up, but Julian could see she would have no trouble convincing Starfleet that she was.

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“Of course, Doctor. But I do have one condition… This mission may take months, but not years, what comes after this?”

“I’ve reached out to Miles about teaching at the Academy. It seemed likely I could get a position.”

“Good. You’re dismissed, Doctor. I’ll let you know when your final mission has approval.”

***

One could really count on Kira to bang heads together. In only a matter of days, Bashir had his pet project approved. And of course, Garak seemed to know about it without being told.

_Good luck in the Gamma Quadrant, Doctor._

_Do come back in one piece._

_Garak_

“How did he always know?” Julian wondered to himself. The intention had to be friendly… but it felt odd for him - to think there was nowhere he could go where Cardassian eyes would not be watching him. Protecting him? 

***

Kira met him at the runabout to say goodbye.

“You can come with me if you like Nerys, I’d be happy to have you along, and I’m sure Odo would too.” Julian smiled at her, already knowing the answer.

“No, Julian. My place is here, and his is there. As The Profits intended. But you may give him my well wishes, though he should know he’s had them this whole time.”

“Of course.”

As he walked on the shuttle, Julian felt a sort of focused feeling that came before a mission, like all the cogs in his brain had aligned. On the shuttle, Jake Sisko was already waiting for him, seated in the passenger’s seat, slouched in a way that seemed both casual and practiced.

“I know you’re an adult now, but since you’re the Captain’s son and he’s not around to be over protective, I have to ask anyway. You’re sure you want to come?” Julian knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity, but the whole crew had become very protective of Jake since Sisko had left.

“And miss being there as you reestablish contact with The Dominion? This is going to make an amazing story! You know I’m coming!” It was surprising how untouched by everything Jake could seem in moments like this.

“Yes of course I do! The marvelous boy journalist, Jake Sisko! Off to face danger no matter the personal costs!” Bashir said with a grin, sitting down and beginning pre-flight.

“Hey now! That’s an unfair characterization!”

“I’m only kidding you Jake, it will be good to have you along.” And Julian meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julian really out there tryna go to any place that's not Cardassia... Well let's just say that strategy will only work for so long...


	3. The Gamma Quadrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Jake go on their mission

When they beamed down to the founder’s home world Julian immediately turned to Jake to see his reaction. The two stood on the shore of the Great Link. Great was the right word for it, purple and orange, and as grand as an ocean. Julian had always appreciated the vastness of the oceans back on earth. Though the Pacific ocean felt like a sentient thing in it’s own right, the founder's home world had another quality. Something more sinister, that San Francisco lacked. As he hoped, Jake’s eyes widened; he was awestruck. Julian smiled fondly at that. 

Julian knelt down, to touch the link, and alert the founders of their presence, but as he did a shape began to materialize out of the link. It was of course Odo. He looked different, his face seemed more defined but still quintessentially Odo. He wore a simple grey ensemble rather than the beige of the Bajoran security uniforms. 

“Julian, Jake,” Odo nodded. “What a nice surprise. What brings you here?” Odo asked. To Bashir, he seemed almost serene. 

“I have a favor to ask,” Julian said, standing up. “Though I hope you will be happy to help.” He found himself looking Odo in the eye for the first time in 9 months. It felt like a decade. It felt like days. 

“Mmm perhaps I will. Let us walk,” offered Odo. 

Julian walked next to Odo, who took a leisurely pace through the dense foliage. Jake trailed several feet behind. He leaned down to his padd, taking notes. 

“So tell me doctor, what is this favor you have to ask of me?” Odo asked. He sounded like his old self. It made Bashir smile. “What are you smiling at, Doctor? I asked you a question!” 

“Just sentimental is all. No need for the third degree, Odo. I came to ask about The Quickening.”

“Oh yes, that horrible plague we unleashed upon a planet that resisted us. If I remember correctly, doctor, you saved them,” Odo said. Julian couldn’t help but notice his use of we. 

“I saved their children. But that planet has 40 years of suffering left, until the last of the sickened generation die. I do not wish to leave this work undone, but no amount of time seems to be enough for me to find the solution. That’s why I came here. I thought you may have the cure.” Julian said earnestly. 

“Why doctor, I see you haven’t changed the least bit. Always flying somewhere dangerous so you can help people,” Odo said. He turned to Bashir, stopping their stroll.

“I well, I only try to do what any good doctor would.” The praise felt hollow, it’s not like he’d been able to come up with the cure on his own. Not even his genetically augmented status had been enough to help him solve this one. 

“Well, regardless, you’re in luck. If you beam me up to your runabout, I can put it into your ship's computer.” 

“Is now okay?”

“It makes no difference to me.” That was the Odo Julian knew. 

“Three to beam up,” Julian said, tapping his com badge. 

\--- 

“It’s really just a simple peptide? I can’t believe I missed it. That everyone in the federation missed it. We looked for peptides!” Julian felt stunned. He leaned over the console, feeling dumbfounded. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Doctor. The Quickening was designed to be hard to treat. Just several amino acid changes and this peptide becomes quite toxic, you have to find the exact right sequence or there will be no effect. This makes recursive methods of peptide design unusable. Instead every individual peptide would need to be tested either by computer simulation. While of course this is possible, it’s computationally time consuming. And when the recursive method fails, people don’t think to use months of computer time doing it the long way” Odo explained, pointing to the toxic residues on the screen. 

“That’s incredibly diabolical. Evil really,” he said, turning to look Odo in the eyes. Julian didn’t know if he should have said that, but Odo was always a straight shooter and seemed to understand. 

“Yes. We used to pride ourselves on using any techniques necessary to ensure our safety.” Odo stepped away from the console and began to pace about the runabout, head angled to the ground, avoiding the intensity in Julian’s gaze. “But I think my being here has begun to teach the old ones that using any technique necessary creates unnecessary enemies. They are beginning to understand the ideas of friendship and trust. Before I harmed a founder, none of our people had ever harmed another. That was a basis of trust, even when I fought them. I’ve been teaching them that such trust is also possible with solids.” When he said that, he turned his head up to look at Julian. Julian gave genuine smile at that.

“That’s good to hear Odo. Friendship and trust are a good foundation to build on. I hope I may still count you as a friend?”

“Yes you can, Doctor. You’re going on a mission of goodwill for my people. One that we should have gone on ourselves. Thank you for coming here, and for reminding me that. The Great Link can be… consuming.” He looked almost ashamed by his joy. 

“You seem very happy here, Odo. I am glad to see it.”

Odo made a noise of agreement. “Though there are some things I do miss.”

“You’re welcome on the station any time, Odo. Kira sent me with her well wishes.” He was pushing his luck with that one, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew that past year had been hard for Kira without Odo. 

“I don’t know about that… who ever likes an ex to arrive unannounced?” Odo looked suddenly exhausted by the mention of Kira. “Well I think I should be headed back to the Link unless you need anything else from me?” 

“I have a favor, too Odo” piped in Jake, who had up until this point been quietly taking notes. 

“Oh yes? And what’s that?”

“In a couple years, when people feel less intensely about the events of the war… Well I’d like to come back and interview you. To hear more about the Link, and the ways it’s changed post war.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Jake Sisko. I’d be happy to do such an interview.” 

*** 

As Julian navigated the runabout to the quicken planet, Jake was all bubbly enthusiasm. He stood by the replicator, happily sipping on a raktajino. 

“This is going pretty well isn’t it, Dr. Bashir?”

“Well I don’t like to count my mission as a success before it’s done, but Odo was very helpful, and the cure is something we can manufacture on a large scale simply using the runabouts replicators. I would say the mission is decidedly on track.” Julian replied. 

“We could be home in a matter of weeks!” 

“Well there are always complications with distributing a cure of this magnitude. I don’t know how long they’ll want us to stick around to help,” Julian offered. 

“Maybe… I think this is a home run. And the story I write about this? Why Dr. Bashir is going to be known as a true humanitarian through two quadrants.” Jake said with a self satisfied smile. Julian’s stomach turned at that. Maybe inviting Jake had been inviting too much attention to this mission.

***

As it turned out, there were no complications. The runabout easily synthesized the needed quantities of the peptide, and the government on the planet was willing and eager to quickly distribute the medication, after a few volunteers had participated in a short several week trial. 

Julian offered to stay awhile longer to help. But their leader, a woman named Cutana, had been insistent that he leave. As he piloted back to the wormhole. Her words rung though his head. Perfectly memorized for posterity of course. 

_ “No, Dr. Bashir, we need you to leave. This cure changes everything for our world. When just several years ago everything changed. You saved our children once, and then you returned to save us all. You’re nearly a godlike figure. You could ask anything of the people and they would follow you. You are our savior. But that means you have too much sway. So I need you to leave. To let our world find out what it can be without the Quickening. Your offer is generous but we must learn to stand on our own two feet without the magical, Dr. Bashir.”  _

Magical? He hadn’t done anything any other doctor couldn’t have done. In fact, he’d missed the peptide himself! Jake, lounging completely at ease in the adjacent seat, interrupted his thoughts. 

“So what’s next for you? Kira said you were leaving DS9.”

“Yes er well... I think Earth. At least a semester of teaching at Starfleet Academy.” Julian scratched the back of his neck, waiting for the interrogation he always seemed to receive about his life these days. Instead, Jake smiled. 

“That’s great! Did Kassidy tell you I’m finally going to New Zealand to study writing?”

“No she didn’t. I’m glad to hear it, though a little surprised.” Julian said honestly. 

“Well yeah I wanted to stay till Dad came back, but Kassidy forced the issue. And well I caved because she’s right. I have to live my life, I can’t spend the rest of it waiting for him. When my Dad get’s back, well, I want him to be proud of me.” 

Julian smiled at that. Jake Sisko really was growing up. He couldn’t help but feel the irony that this young boy seemed to know more of what he wanted from life than Julian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next couple chapters in order so those will be out in the next couple days as I continue to make progress. My writing tends to jump around a bit so I'll write out of order and then come back and rearrange, but hopefully more to come throughout the week. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my techno-babble regarding the cure... I'm actually a trained biologist so I quite enjoyed writing that.


	4. A Conversation with Miles Edward O’Brien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian returns from the Gamma Quadrant

The celebration upon their return was one of the better parties Julian had been to not hosted by Jadzia Dax. Though Dax had hosted at least the top 10 parties he’d been to, this might be 11. Quark had pulled out the stops on food and drink. And the celebration had gone late into the night. 

He’d have been too hungover to function the next day if not for the genetic enhancements, as it was he did not feel well. Fortunately, everyone at his first shift back at infirmary seemed to feel quite the same. There was a comradery in over-indulgence. After his shift ended, Julian briefly considered some hair of the dog at Quarks, before deciding to head back to his quarters to check his messages. It seems words of congratulations had poured in. Jake must have not wasted anytime getting his article out. 

_ My beautiful son -  _

_ Always making his mother and father proud. A true hero. Words cannot describe how proud we are of all you have accomplished. Do call when you have the chance -- though we know you are a busy man it brings great joy to speak to our brilliant and talented son.  _

_ Love from your mother _

“At least you got what you paid for,” Julian thought bitterly. He left the message without reply. 

  
  


_ DR BASHIR!  _

_ EVEN THE KLINGONS HEAR OF YOUR GREAT TRIUMPH. THOUGH MEDICINE IS UNLIKE WAR IN MANY WAYS, IT’S VICTORY CAN BE JUST AS SWEET, NO? AND TO RID THE WORLD OF ONE MORE DOMINION HORROR, THERE IS NO GREATER ACHIEVEMENT.  _

_ IF YOU SHOULD EVER NEED ASSISTANCE FROM YOUR FRIEND FROM 371, YOU NEED ONLY ASK! _

_ I LOOK FORWARD TO MORE TALES OF TRIUMPH! _

_ MARTOK _

Julian couldn’t help but smile at this one. 

_ Julian -  _

_ I know where we left things was hard, but I just want you to know I am ever so proud of you. Jadzia would be too. _

_ Ezri _

She was too kind for him to stay upset at her. Kira had said her first command posting was going well. Julian was happy for her. He just wished that it didn’t seem to be that anyone he dated was better off without him. It would be nice to enhance someone’s life rather than to detract from it. “Am I just too clingy?” he wondered. He pushed the thought away, and turned to his next correspondence. 

_ Julian Subatoi Bashir: Hero of the Gamma Quadrant. You really should be quite proud. I am.  _

_ Elim _

  
  


Julian couldn’t tell if it was a genuine compliment. Or an insult - Garak must have known this mission had, for all it’s press been an easy one. Yet Julian suspected this would remain a defining moment of his career. It felt unearned. Surely Garak would know this. Or perhaps it was a threat. A veiled reminder that no matter how infrequently he replied to Garak’s letters, the man would still be able to track his every movement. All that Julian could be sure of was that Garak would smile, that his blue eyes would sparkle with mirth. Compliment or threat, it would roll off his tongue like honey. Julian shivered. 

He decided to call Miles. They had plans to talk about his upcoming move. Perhaps would distract from the possibility of some of the more over the top praise. As he rang the O’Brien family line he shifted at his seat nervously. 

“Julian! We heard about your success with the Quickening. You should be very proud” said Keiko as she picked up the line. 

“Oh er… yes… thank you! I didn’t really cure anything. It was the founders. More politics than medicine actually,” Julian said uncomfortably. A few years ago he would have been elated for everyone to be so proud of his accomplishments. But this time it made him uncomfortable for some reason. 

“Kira told me that you insisted on going! That this would not have happened without you.”

“Anyone could have done it really. Just a couple shuttle rides and conversations. In fact, the cure itself is rather straightforward. I should have come up with it years ago.”

“Well not anyone did this. You did. I’ll get Miles, I know it was him you were calling for,” Keiko said with a smile. When she got up to get her husband, Julian saw their living room. Molly was chasing Kirayoshi around a coffee table. It made his heart ache a bit. Just as he was starting to get overly sentimental, Miles appeared on the screen. 

“Julian! I won’t compliment you anymore than you have been already. I will not pad your ego as my beautiful wife does. And countless others I don’t doubt.”

“I appreciate that Miles,” and he really did. 

“That surprises me, Julian.”

“It seems time can make even the once overbearingly enthusiastic Julian Bashir tired of praise.”

“I don’t buy it! But all the same, it is good to see your face. I still hope I shall be seeing it in person soon, though I understand if you have better offers…” said Miles, giving him an opportunity to let him down easy. 

“No! Of course not! What better offer than to work besides Miles O’Brien shaping young and brilliant starfleet minds.” 

“Good! We’ve got you all set up to teach an elective on comparative xenobiology, and of course you’ll have a lab and space to continue to conduct your own research.”

“I look forward to it, Miles. My shuttle will be off within the week.”

“Good! And you’ll stay with us a few nights while we help you find an apartment?”

“Yes of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good! But Julian I mean it. If there’s something, somewhere you’d rather be going. Well don’t come here on my account. I have a family, and earth is the best place for us to be together and safe, but you? You’re still young. There’s plenty more adventures for Dr. Bashir if you want them. And well you did always seem to want them.” 

“Life’s not a holosuite program, Miles,” said Julian only sort of believing himself. There’s only so much you can lie to your best friend. 

“No no of course not. I didn’t mean to imply… Well it’s just after this you could have any posting you wanted. I thought you might pick an exploratory vessel.” 

“I want to go home.”

“But is earth really your home, Julian?”

“I hope it can be.” He wasn’t lying about that one. That was for sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are still enjoying my little quarantine fic. Next couple chapters are pretty involved so they might be a couple days but they're in progress :)


	5. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian reflects on his first semester teaching at Starfleet Academy

As his first semester drew to a close, Julian had to admit that Earth was not home. The O’Briens had been so kind and welcoming. He had dinner with them 3 times a week, and he treasured that. Molly and Kirayoshi were delightful; he had to admit he enjoyed babysitting them when Miles and Keiko had their date nights. 

He liked his students too. They were young and hopeful. They asked good questions. They asked silly questions. They asked him overly personal questions about The Dominion War. 

His research into gastrointestinal abnormalities in a population of Andorians living in Alaska was going well. He had submitted several papers which he thought were quite good. 

He had gone on several promising dates with a Dr. Penelope Miller, who’s lab was across the hall. Perhaps not completely workplace appropriate but she did have lovely teeth. 

Nothing was wrong. It hadn’t been like the first months after the war on DS9 where he let his infatuation with Ezri drive his life. He was balanced here. He had everything going for him. _ So why am I not happy? _

All the same it had become clear to him that Miles had been right all along. Earth was not home to him. He’d put in a request to Starfleet to be put on USS Doudna. A two year mission in the Beta Quadrant, exploring some of the lesser known areas beyond the Klingon Empire. He couldn’t decide if he was excited or not. On the one hand, he’d never had a posting on an exploratory vessel, he could treat new species on which the Federation had little information. On the other hand, the mission could end up unremarkable, and he could treat the small crew as they charted stars for two years. At any rate it was another chance to find where he was supposed to be. 

It was getting late in the lab, he’d been busy running samples from Betazed for Starfleet Medical. The Dominion War had been hard on the planet, and there was an emerging virus with potential to ravage the planet. Their infrastructure was incredibly weak at the moment, and so there couldn’t have been a worse time. The federation hoped a prophylactic might be found that would stem the spread of the virus.

As he headed out of the lab and into the streets of San Francisco, he had to admit he would miss it. Tall buildings, crisp night air, street lights illuminating the sidewalk in a blue white glow. It was now getting very late. As he approached his apartment, Julian felt a great fondness for it. He’d had several horrible roommates in his early years at Starfleet Medical, and this indeed made him appreciate the joys of an acceptable 1 bedroom apartment. A room of one’s own. He was on the third floor, no elevator. Terribly old building. Delightfully historic.All seismically reinforced brick and hardwood dating back to the late 21st century. It really wasn’t the apartment's fault that he wasn’t happy here.

As he opened the door to the apartment, Julian was shocked to find a man lounging in one of his antique arm chairs (20th century earth. “Mid century modern'' they called it. Really too lovely an item for such a person to inhabit it). The man had pale white skin, and wore an entirely black outfit. “Sloan,” Julian thought before realizing that man was dead. This man, he had never seen before. 

“Hello, Dr. Bashir,” said the man. He didn’t get up. Julian wanted to be more mad at the intrusion, to come at the man with all the radical optimism of youth. But he didn’t. Maybe he was just tired. Perhaps he was finally cynical. Or maybe he was just bored. 

“Whatever you want, I’m not helping you,” he said, a tinge of anger catching in his voice. It wasn’t that old anger that he’d felt last time, instead it was that of a man who just wanted to turn in so he could grade essays in the morning. 

“Oh don’t speak so fast, Dr. Bashir. You don’t even know what I want from you,” the man said with a smile. 

“I suppose you won’t leave till you’ve told me so let’s get on with it then.” 

“Oh do sit down, doctor. You’ve had a long day and it’s not over yet. I shan't talk faster just because you refuse to sit with me.” The man indicated the seat next to him. Julian took it; he was tired after all. 

“It is to the benefit of the Federation that we should have many decades of peace in the Alpha Quadrant, don’t you agree Doctor?” 

“Yes,” Julian shifted uncomfortably. “But there is a limit on what peace is worth. Only so much we should surrender.”

“And peace is mostly easily kept between friends. Wouldn’t you say?” The man leaned forward. 

“Good friends, perhaps.”

“Mmm yes. We agree. Good friends with a solid foundation.”

Julian looked at the man appraisingly but remained quiet. 

“A strong shared history. Shared interests. Shared goals. Beyond war being too costly these are the best deterrents.”

“I am a doctor. Not a political scientist. I couldn’t tell you what makes the best peace,” said Julian evenly. 

“You undersell yourself doctor. You have studied other cultures. You have traveled widely in two quadrants. You have made unlikely friends. Why just recently you have saved an entire planet with the help of The Dominion. You build coalitions. I think you are a man who understands peace and friendship very well.”

“I’ve only ever tried to help people.” He tried very hard to keep his voice steady, and not not get emotional with this man. 

“Mmmm yes. But recently you’ve let a friendship fade. A friendship that could benefit the entire quadrant. That could solidify a century of peace, and bring an expanded and healthy federation.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Bashir lied. 

“Elim Garak writes to you nearly every week. And you have not responded in months.”

“Five months, 10 days and 13 hours.” His augmented brain wouldn’t let him be imprecise on this matter. “Has it occurred to you I haven’t anything to say to him? That we weren’t ever such good friends to begin with?” asked Julian, his voice almost remaining neutral. 

“Oh but you often write to him as well. You just never send them. It’s been rather heartbreaking to watch. But he still writes. Undeterred by your 5 months and 10 days of silence.”

“He always did like to listen to himself talk,” Julian snapped. 

“Oh Doctor Bashir, you pretend such unkindness. But I know you are not an unkind man. Do not make poor Elim wait 5 months and 11 days to hear from you.”

“Don’t you dare call him that! You haven’t earned the right!” Julian almost launched out of his chair at the man. Oh. Perhaps that anger of youth was still there after all. 

“Mmm so you do care,” he didn’t frame it as a question. 

“I... “

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me Doctor. All you have to do is accept this assignment.”

“I have no intention of manipulating Garak if that’s what you want from me. And you’re foolish to think I could ever out maneuver the man. He is cleverer than you and more cynical than me. He won’t see through any lies!”

“You think highly of him. But you are his blind spot.”

“That’s…”

“Besides you need not tell him any lies. Simply say the Federation wants to form a better relationship with Cardassia, especially as they begin to realize their democracy. This is true. That you were chosen as a perfect liaison and representative for the Federation because you had close ties to someone already involved in their new government. This is also true. 

“You must have an angle. I have very little interest in propping up the schemes of Section 31.” 

“Oh but Doctor there is no angle. We simply want you to go and do what you do best  — make unlikely friends. The situation is in flux, but given the right impression, this new Cardassia may even wish to join the Federation. All they need is someone to show them the generosity and goodhearted nature that we represent. ” The man smiled. Julian didn’t like that smile one bit. 

“And if I refuse? I have an assignment on the USS Doudna starting in 2 weeks.”

“Oh it would be unwise to refuse, Doctor. Your assignment on the Doudna has of course been terminated. The news will be going out on subspace tomorrow morning that you’ve agreed to the Cardassian posting. And so many of your friends and colleagues will think this is a great fit for your talents. We will announce this tomorrow. And should you choose not to go… well as I understand it augments are not supposed to be Starfleet officers or doctors.”

“You’d strip me of my career? Some generosity that is!” Julian exclaimed. He shouldn’t be surprised by the lengths men like this were willing to go to. 

“Oh no doctor. I won’t have to. You’ll go. And you’ll do what you do best.”

“And what’s that?”

“Help people.”

Julian sat there in stunned silence. The man got up to leave. “Oh and Julian, I would write Elim now. You wouldn’t want him to hear it on the news. My name’s Devin by the way. We’ll be in touch” 

Julian stared at the closed door behind Devin for a long time, trying to think of a way out of this one. When nothing came, he got up and headed to his com panel to write to Garak. 

\---- 

_ Elim -  _

_ A thousand apologies for my lack of communication these past months. I wish I had a good explanation, but alas I can offer nothing concrete. Perhaps I am just not a writer. I write to you now, with hope you’ll forgive me, though I admit it would surprise me.  _

_ Nonetheless I think you should hear it from me before the news breaks. Though maybe I am naive to assume you didn’t know well before I was even offered the position. Regardless, I have accepted a position as political liaison for the Federation on Cardassia Prime.  _

_ If you should like to have lunch again soon, I would.  _

_ In friendship,  _

_ Julian Bashir  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very curious to hear your thoughts on this one as I feel some may find it controversial... Regardless I must admit to being quite pleased with this chapter.


	6. Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian freaks out

The next evening he headed to the O’Brien’s for advice. Their apartment was airy, and light, so unlike all the times he spent in their quarters on DS9. All the same, it was a comforting place. Perhaps not his home, but a home. 

He told them the whole tale of this new man Devin and the assignment he couldn’t turn down. He explained why he hadn’t told any of them before it was announced on the news. As he paced around their glass dining table, Keiko and Miles stared at him patiently. When he finished the story Miles was the first to speak. 

“Julian, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but this may actually be the perfect assignment for you!”

Julian did a double take. 

“Really Miles? Section 31 has come to me, threatening that I will lose my career and potentially even my freedom if I don’t go to Cardassia, and you of all people think it’s a good idea?” Julian thought this was maybe the most surprised he’d ever been, and certainly by Miles O’Brien. 

“Well you weren’t happy with Ezri and Kira on the station. And you’re not happy here with us,” Julian tried to interrupt him, but Miles plowed on. 

“Well ahh I wouldn’t say…” 

“No, Julian! Don’t interrupt me! I can see this isn’t home for you. We have fun, you and I. But you don’t ever for a second think that I don’t see you. You don’t get that glint in your eye. Projects don’t excite you. I know it’s not personal! This isn’t where you’re supposed to be!”

“And you think, somehow, Cardassia Prime is?” Julian felt like he was in the mirror universe. “With Garak? Didn’t you have a slur you used to like for people like him?”

“Come on now, Julian. I’ve learned my lesson on that. Garak turned out to be a good guy in the end. He fought side by side with Damar and Kira for the good guys. And besides you saw that in him years before me! You always had a special connection. I was wrong and I’ll admit it. Besides, I know you put in to be on the Doudna! Admiral Richard spilled the beans to me a few weeks ago. We both have to admit Cardassia is a better fit for you than some 50 person exploratory vessel collecting rock samples in the middle of nowhere.”

Julian’s head was spinning. 

“Miles is right dear. Garak speaks well of you.” Keiko interjected.

“Speaks?” Julian managed to squeak out. 

“Oh we mostly talk about orchids. But he was so very proud of you after your triumph in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Triumph?” Julian asked, but neither of them seemed to be really listening to him. Miles continued, at full pace. 

“And besides, even if you’d hate it, I don’t see what other choice you have. So you might as well see it as an opportunity to connect with an old friend.” This was a more practical Miles, one that Julian understood. 

“I haven’t written to him in months.” Julian finally stopped pacing and sank into one of the O’Brien's dining room chairs, his head falling forward into his hands. “He writes me long and lovely letters about Democracy and Cardassia and hope, and I write drafts that I don’t send.”

“Oh.” Miles seemed stumped by that. 

“Garak is a patient man. He owes you his life. I don’t think you can burn this bridge that easily” Keiko did have a certain wisdom. 

“Well I guess I’ll find out either way.”

***

Two days later, Julian got his reply from Garak. He was at his lab when he got it, mid day, sun streaming through the windows, and entirely too much day left to be opening a message from Garak. He opened it anyway. 

_ My Dear Doctor,  _

_ What a delightful surprise. I have arranged with the Provisional Government that you can stay with me as a guest until more permanent arrangements can be made. I hope that is to your liking.  _

_ See you soon,  _

_ Garak _

Attached were a set of Coordinates to beam to. Julian was really beginning to realize he would be in control of absolutely no part of his life on Cardassia. Between Garak and Devin, too many people were pulling strings. This whole situation felt poisoned. Like people were twisting and turning Julian until he filled some mold he didn’t even know the shape of. 

His lab was almost packed up, maybe a bit of final organization could keep his mind preoccupied for a while. Cataloging a storing samples and slides so they could be easily accessed by the next researcher was the sort of mind numbing task he needed. Just enough diligence and focus to keep his thoughts at bay for a few hours. 

But there was only so long one could sort biopsies from Andorian gastric systems. And before long the lab was spotless and his thoughts were still on Garak and his new assignment. He decided to be early for dinner with Keiko and Miles. 

***

It was their last dinner together before Julian took his shuttle to Cardassia. Julian just wanted to enjoy the company of his two very good friends before he left the next morning. Instead he was pacing though their living room, agonizing over the trip. 

“Miles! He’s having me stay at his house!” 

“That’s great Julian. He’s not mad at you for being too much of a bastard to reply to a letter. You’re a lucky man. I would be pissed.”

“I don’t know… I’m not convinced he isn’t pissed. His reply was pretty short. He could just be waiting for me to get there so he can interrogate me in person.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s really his style,” said Keiko kindly. 

“He was in the **Obsidian Order** ! This mission is now organized by **two** different nefarious spy organizations! Why aren’t you two more alarmed?” Julian was pacing again. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a mission of friendship from both ends,” volunteered Miles. 

“Well if it’s not, I’m only sleeping in his house!” Julian could hear his voice increasing in volume, but he couldn't stop himself.

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic?” Miles asked. 

“A man shows up in my house tells me I have to go to Cardassia or else, and now my old friend, the spy, is volunteering to host me. And you think I’m being dramatic?” Julian was incredulous.

“Frankly, yes. And I’m not sure it helps but this is the most passionate I’ve seen you in recent memory. Maybe this is the right assignment for you.” said Miles, still miraculously even keel. 

“You two are going to kill me. I don’t want to argue about this anymore. Can we talk about something else?” Julian sighed. 

***

Julian caught a freighter headed though Cardassian space the next morning. He found his padd had been loaded with instructions from Devin. As he opened them, he wondered if there would be anything of a top secret nature. He was instead disappointed to find only dry logistical details. A map of the capitol, with Garak’s house, several government buildings and the clinic he would be working at marked. He had a schedule of his first week, which included 25 hours in the clinic, and an additional 10 of meetings with various government officials. There were also a number of short biographical profiles on players in the provisional government, and even a letter from the head doctor of the clinic welcoming him. There was a 30 page economic report about the current situation in heinously dry prose. This was not really a burn after reading scenario Julian begrudgingly admitted. If he was going to be forced into traveling to a foreign land and working with a foreign government at the behest of Section 31, well.. Couldn’t there at least be some intrigue? 

The final document was a letter from Devin:

_ Dr. Bashir  _

_ Your main mission on Cardassia is to build trust between the Federation and Cardassia. We believe you are a good man, uniquely suited to strengthen the relationship between us. To that end, you will be spending your time outside of medicine coordinating aid from the Federation to Cardassia. Please be in touch with the Federation aid office as necessary, regarding ways to optimize aid. The Federation does not have endless resources as much was spent in the war effort. However, there is a belief that investment now will yield high return later, as this relationship is likely to be a defining one for our quadrant in the years to come.  _

_ On a more personal note, we ask you to try to maintain strong relationships with those you encounter. Government officials, medical and research scientists and of course, Elim Garak. Do be generous in accepting their hospitality and try to make genuine effort to understand and adapt to their cultural attitudes. We believe that your aptitude and study in this manner is already quite well suited to this mission.  _

_ If all goes well, Cardassia will join the Federation within the decade. Keep in touch.  _

_ Devin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to getting to Cardassia folks! I didn't drag Julian through 20 chapters of being sad in space... although I did consider it.


	7. Reintroduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak - reunited and it feels…

Julian beamed into a crowded market place in late afternoon. He was on a raised platform, about a foot off the ground; a designated public beam-in area. 

The market was largely made of crudely assembled tables and booths. Some seemed to the wares of a specific vendor - a type of vegetable or mechanical parts. Others were topped with a seeming random assortment of items; food of all kinds, electronics, housewares, clothing. There were 100’s of people in the square, mostly Cardassians. There was a happy din of haggling and conversation. Even this brief look told Julian that things were not well stabilized economically, but people were making due, living their lives as best they could. All around there were a bustle of Cardassians, parents with tiny children, young couples. To look at their faces, they seemed happy, if somewhat skinny. It was far more illustrious to see this than to read the report Devin had sent. Perhaps that’s why Garak had wanted him to meet here. 

Garak. He looked around, squinting into the setting sun, hoping to spot his old friend. 

They locked eyes from across the market, half a dozen meters away. Garak sauntered over. He was wearing a structured ensemble in dark grey. It looked new? How did it look new? Garak’s blue eyes gleamed, as if he were in on some little joke, thought Julian. 

“Hello, my dear Doctor. Why it is so very good to see you again. I didn’t really fully believe I would.” Garak extended his hand and Julian took it, hoping off the platform. Garak’s hand felt cool and sturdy. 

“Er well… I’m sorry about all that Garak,” Julian said turning his eyes down, embarrassed. “It turns out I am not so very good at corresponding by letter.”

Garak reached his hand and gently clasped his shoulder. “Oh no doctor, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t want you sour this happy little reunion with guilt. It’s all forgotten.” 

Julian very much doubted that. Maybe it was forgiven, but Garak was not a man to forget. Just as he thought that, Garak stepped forward into Julian’s space, the air buzzed with tension, and Elim gave him a quick but solid hug. Julian felt like he let out a breath he’d been holding for a year. 

Garak stepped back abruptly. “Let us just be glad that I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming you to Cardassia Prime.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Garak.” Julian laid on the charm instinctively. Elim gestured the way they were headed and the 2 men walked in silence for a while through the winding and crowded marketplace. It felt unusual for them, it wouldn’t have even felt uncomfortable, though Julian did find the specter of guilt hung over him still, despite Elim’s protestations. 

“Why meet here, Garak? This didn’t seem too close to your residence if I recall the map correctly.”

“You are quite the navigator, Doctor Bashir, but must I give up all my secrets at once?”

“Oh no, Garak I’d hate for you to do that. You couldn’t live with such indignity. No, I’m just curious about this location for our reunion.” Eyes were on them. A human was a rare sight these days, Julian realized. Perhaps Garak wanted him to know he was being looked at. 

“Well, Doctor, I must admit, I thought you needed to be prepared. To see what it's really like here.”

“Trying to scare me off?” Julian challenged. 

“Oh no, never Doctor. I’ve never found you to be deterred by a challenge.”

“Trying to lure me in then?” Julian had to admit, such a plan demonstrated an uncomfortable familiarity with his particular psychology. 

“That I will never admit to.” But his eyes sparkled particularly brightly. 

“Ha!” 

They walked in silence out of the market for a while, navigating foot traffic through a city half destroyed. It was getting darker, but in the dusk light it was easy enough to see the general state of the city. Rubble didn’t cover the street, but many buildings were leveled, others repaired, others rebuilt. The whole city had a sandy, earthen vibe - a desert beige seemed to be the main type of masonry readily available. 

They wound their way towards Garak’s home, uphill about 2 kilometres from the market. Normally, at a reunion like this Julian might ask what his friend had been up to. But of course he’d received dozens of letters laying it out. Garak’s work helping the wounded, then burying the dead. His transition to part time tailor, part time constitution writer. And while Julian had been tremendously bad at writing, Garak’s letters seemed to have an uncanny understanding of his movements. They had talked so little, yet Julian couldn't figure out how much catching up they actually had. 

As they approached Garak’s home, Julian marveled. The house was large, and for all the surrounding devastation seemed largely untouched. More than untouched, it was hideous. Winding dark metal and dark grey stonework made the house look spooky and grotesque. The combination with it’s large size, and the devastation of the surrounding neighborhoods was nothing if not surreal. 

The only thing to recommend the outside of the house was what might almost be described as a lush garden. It seemed Garak hadn’t been lying about that whole gardener thing 

“Enabran Tain’s legacy,” Garak provided helpfully. 

“Why is it so?”

“Not destroyed? Or Ugly?”

“Yes, Both.”

“Well the architecture is from a style that was only fashionable for a short while, you can always tell when a building had been built in the 50’s by the monstrous metal detailing... many such homes were destroyed in the bombings. As it goes, not one of the greater architectural losses for Cardassia. Well as to why it was spared? I can only speculate that it stands to remind us what happens to those that attack the dominion. You will die and your ugly house will stand forever.” Garak rolled his eyes. “Very dramatic. But I can’t complain. It’s certainly better than what happened to Damar’s house. They leveled it with his family inside.”

Julian didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Evidently that was acceptable to Garak. As they approached the door, Julian appreciated just how grand the place was. 

“You live here alone?”

“Yes. Not a very appealing legacy. Doesn’t attract a lot of visitors. Well until today that is,” Garak smiled at that. 

“Anything to get Elim Garak out of his hosting rut.”

“It’s much appreciated, doctor,” said Elim, unlocking the door, and letting it swing open to reveal a peachy colored interior. It was a comical contrast to the harsh metal and stone exterior. 

Garak gave him a minimal tour of the house. The entryway led to a combined kitchen living room area. A hallway led off towards Garak’s study. (Had it been Tain’s before him?) Stairs led up to several bedrooms, and a library. 

“Here’s your room. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Or as short as you like, Doctor. I don’t know what kind of assistance the Federation has provided in terms of long term accommodations.” Garak seemed breezy when he said it, almost too calm. For the first time that evening Julian realized Garak must be nervous too. 

“Err.. well they’ve provided me with a housing stipend, but otherwise I’m sort of on my own in that respect.” Julian remembered his briefing letter from Devin… Accept hospitality, make friends… well, if Garak were to offer, he shouldn’t turn it down. Or should he?

“Well, I think Doctor you will find the rent here unbeatably low.” 

“Oh yes?” 

“Yes. All I ask is that on occasion you have lunch with me.” 

“You strike a hard bargain, Garak. But I think I can manage.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“I’m going to freshen up a bit and then I’ll come down for dinner if you’d like.”

“Yes, of course Doctor.” Garak smiled at that and closed the door leaving Julian with his thoughts. 

Julian stretched out on the hard Cardassian mattress. He was going to be living with Garak then, huh? Was that really the wisest idea? It seemed at least what Devin had hoped would happen. The whole thing made Julian feel gross, like he was using Garak, like he didn’t want to be here. But it’s not like it had been uncomfortable between them. 

Why had it not been uncomfortable? They hadn’t seen each other in over a year, and Julian had been a terrible friend in that year. And yet it felt almost normal. Garak teased him just like always. They had an easy chemistry. 

On the other hand there was the guilt. The creeping crawling guilt Bashir felt whenever Garak smiled at him, seemed happy to see him. A part of Julian just wanted to say, “Look, Garak, I’m happy to see you but I only did it at the behest of a shadowy Federation syndicate. And further had they not blackmailed me, I would be on some federation exploratory vessel, happily ignoring your letters from the very furthest edge of the Beta Quadrant.” 

Instead, Julian got out of bed, changed out of his uniform and into a casual purple jumpsuit. Just as he’s headed to the door, he had second thoughts on the manner and figured he better be safe than sorry. He opened a small box of 12 datarods and puzzled over them for a minute before deciding on one and pocketing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are still getting a kick out of my fic. Stay tuned for more Cardassian world-building and Julian spinning himself out into profound confusion.


	8. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly about paste  
> As a result it's a bit short

“Doctor, I don’t know if anyone warned you, but the state of food here at the moment is exceptionally bad.” Garak was seated at a stool by the kitchen counter. There was an empty stool beside him. Both places were set with bowls of a light grey mush or pudding. Julian couldn’t quite tell. 

“Yes. I was briefed on the manner. Efficient and minimal replicated rations” 

“Good. I didn’t want you to be offended, to think I was feeding you this as some sort of insult.” Garak gestured to the mush. Or was it paste? 

“Oh no Garak, I would never think so ill of you.” 

“I think you better wait to taste it before you say that.” Garak gave him a look which Julian assumed was meant to show he was serious. 

Sitting down to eat Julian found the mush a whole lot grittier than expected, like pudding with sand in it. The taste was entirely bland if somewhat overly salty, allowing one an almost all consuming attention to texture. Definitely paste, he decided. 

“So, my briefing said this er… paste is nutritionally complete, and that every citizen is rationed 3 a day.”

“Yes doctor, but don’t worry you’re not eating mine. The provisional government sent me a week of rations for you.”

“And you’ve all been eating this 3 times a day for the past 14 months?” Julian thought he was going to wretch. 

“Oh no doctor, for the first 3 months we weren’t eating much at all.”

Bashir stopped eating, spoon in mouth, a look of alarm coating his face. Garak breezed on, seemingly unphased by the doctor’s reaction. 

“And well those of us that are lucky are able to tend small gardens to supplement with fruits and vegetables. My newest crop will be ready for harvest in a couple weeks. And of course there’s a luxury market for more palatable food, but it’s only for special occasions, and in my position well I could certainly get better food but it would be a highly inappropriate misuse of power.”

“You mentioned in your letters the food was bad, but I never quite imagined…” Julian wondered what else might have been omitted. Perhaps they did have catching up to do. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was exaggerating,” said Garak. Julian snorted. 

“Oh why would I ever suspect the honest Elim Garak to extend the truth?”

“No reason I can think of,” said Garak innocently. 

“All the same I would have sent you something if you’d asked. Chocolates perhaps. Well can’t go back now. Anyway I’ve brought you something I think you’d enjoy, though not food unfortunately.”

“Oh, yes?”

Julian reached into his pocket, retrieving the datarod. 

“I was hoping you might like to continue our literature exchange. If you’re too busy, or just not interested, well I won’t be offended.” He tried to keep his tone even. But Julian wondered if Garak could tell how much he wanted him to say yes. 

“I think that could be quite mutually enjoyable.” Garak smiled. “What book have you picked to start with?”

“ _ Slaughterhouse Five _ . One of my favorite 20th century works. It’s an anti-war book which I thought you might appreciate.”

“How thoughtful. I shall endeavor to make time.” Garak’s eyes shone like sapphires. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paste is world building, don't @ me!!
> 
> In all seriousness... I keep writing scenes meant for many chapters from now... so as I soon as I stop doing that more progress will be made


	9. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More paste… This one gets a bit darker. Some mentions of suicide and disordered eating, not too heavy but a warning nontheless.

Julian awoke early the next morning, but apparently not early enough. Garak had left Julian a plate of grey paste and a note. 

_ Dr. Bashir -  _

_ A constitution emergency came up. Such is my life these days. I had hoped to walk you to the clinic, but you're a man with above average intelligence and a map, so I won’t labor under the false impression that you’ll be lost without me.  _

_ I have enclosed a key. Please lock up on your way out. _

_ Enjoy your first day,  _

_ Garak _

Julian picked up the small golden key, and pocketed it all the while considering what exactly a constitutional emergency even looked like. 

Finding no obvious answer he turned his mind to contemplate his plate of paste. Better to go fast or slow? If he went slow it would last longer, but too fast and he might not be able to keep it down. He opted for fast trying to shovel the salty grit down as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, without Garak to talk to, he was more swept up in the not all together pleasant sensory experience. Despite his best efforts to eat quickly, some of it lingered on his tongue, and when it did he found it had two distinct textures. Some of the paste would melt in your mouth, forming a slick and gelatinous goo. Suspended in that, there remained a grit that could only be swallowed, which no amount of time would dissolve. At least not with human saliva, even the generous portion of saliva produced by the salty taste. He would have to ask Garak about if it dissolved for Cardassians. Or perhaps everyone here was just always walking around with a mouthful of sand.

He washed down breakfast with a large glass of water. Julian grabbed his med kit and headed out of the house and towards the clinic. 

His walk was indeed a short one and on a mostly grid system which made navigation non-problematic. It was his first look at the city in the faint purple morning light, and from Garak’s home on the hill, he was able to see more clearly just how much had been destroyed. Progress on rebuilding had been slow. 

More buildings seemed to be leveled than not. Ruble extended in every direction. But the streets were clean and busy. Cardassians went about their morning happily. For all the destruction, Bashir did not detect melancholy, but perhaps he was just in a good mood. 

The clinic itself was in a short and nondescript building - it appeared to be recent construction, as it was entirely without style, only a box made of sandy beige masonry. Julian headed in, hoping once more for good measure that his medical co-workers would be nice. He found a dark grey waiting room. 

“Oh hello Dr. Bashir. We are so excited to welcome you,” said a small Cardassian woman at the front desk. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to our boss, Dr. Marka.” 

“Oh that would be perfect.”

The woman ushered Julian into a large back office, with several desks arranged around the room. In the back, a stout older woman sat pondering over a large stack of papers. She had short white hair slicked back into a hairstyle Julian might be tempted to call a bob. He recognized her from his briefing as Marka. 

“Dr. Marka, lovely to meet you. Dr. Julian Bashir.” He extended his hand for her to shake, remembered the importance of touching palms in Cardassia, and retracted it quickly and somewhat awkwardly. Marka seemed unphased by Julian’s awkwardness; he considered that an immediately good sign. 

“Hello Doctor. Thank you so much for being here. We are so grateful to have a new colleague. Once the appointments begin for the day you will find we are quite understaffed.” She stood up and walked around her desk. 

“Happy to be helpful.” Marka nodded to that, and continued. She seemed to Julian a very serious person, in a way entirely soothing to have as a boss. 

“Tell me Doctor, how experienced are you with treating Cardassians? You had some experience on Terok Nor, did you not?”

“Yes. I’m no expert by any means but I have some familiarity with Cardassian physiology.”

“Very good doctor. Then let us proceed as I planned. For your first several weeks I would like you to shadow me as I treat patients. This will give you a sense of our typical bedside manner, frequent diagnosis and treatments. You will ask me questions, I will ask you questions, and when I am convinced you are sufficiently familiar with our practices then you can begin to take your own patients. In the meantime, I have obtained for you a copy of our pre-eminent medical text,  _ On Health and Illness _ . It is an encyclopedic text that we give our medical students here. I also have a copy of  _ Reycon’s Biochemistry,  _ which should familiarize you with molecular details of our biology a bit more. I’ve in the past been impressed by Federation doctors, and I expect you will be no different.” Marka held out two datarods, and Julian accepted them. 

“Thank you, Doctor. That sounds like an excellent plan. I hope you will find me to be a fast learner.” Julian considered for a moment that it had been almost a decade since he had been a student, but it was a challenge he found exciting. 

“Yes. Not to be blunt but we’ve heard about your genetic augmentation. Not usual here, but also not forbidden. We’re convinced you’ll be a great asset to our clinic.”

“I hope so.”

***

Julian’s first day shadowing flew by. There was a familiarity with being and working alongside doctors that put him at ease, despite not always knowing the specific Cardassia practices. Dr. Marka was capable and no nonsense, he immediately liked and respected her a great deal. 

As the day progressed, he watched Dr. Marka treat pregnant women, young children, old men, and everyone in between. While the patients varied, the problems seemed largely homogeneous; malnutrition, and construction injuries from cave-ins. Marka had been right about the clinic being understaffed, they worked through lunch, which was not such a bad thing considering. 

As the day drew to a close, Julian just couldn’t wrap his mind around the nutritional issues he’d seen all day. As they settled down to do paperwork at the end of the day, Julian decided he ought to ask. He turned from his desk in front of Dr. Marka, to look at her. 

“Dr. Marka - I was told the paste is nutritionally complete. Yet we saw many suffering from malnutrition today. Are there not enough rations?” Julian grimaced at the thought. 

“Dr. Bashir, how many times have you partaken in this particular food?” Marka looked at him appraisingly. 

“Err only today and yesterday.” Julian scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

“It’s very bad, is it not.”

“Very bad.” Julian nodded. 

“So you can imagine 3 times a day, for a year, you might come to hate it.” Marka’s eyes remained fixed on him. Julian remembered the sand in his mouth. He didn’t need a year. 

“Yes.” 

“But you have to eat it, there's nothing else to eat. But let’s say just one day you don’t. It feels good. And perhaps you think: ‘I am helping the state, I am freeing up rations for others’.”

“Oh no.” Julian’s eyes got a little wide then, his brain skipping ahead, anticipating Marka’s next comment. 

“Yes, indeed. Many Cardassians lost their whole families, their whole lives. What is there to live for? Well on Cardassia suicide is very shameful. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen but it’s very taboo,” said Marka. She had a serious expression. Julian realized they had ended up in rather more sensitive territory than he intended. 

“Yes, Earth used to be like that.”

“So it is shameful to commit suicide, but living here, like this? Well they stop eating so much. Eating is terrible anyway. Not eating helps the state, helps make their suffering concrete, and speeds up their deaths.”

“Then why come to a doctor?” Julian asked, feeling foolish. 

“They want me to finish the job.” Marka’s eyes were cold and hard. 

“The shot and the pills you gave them…” Julian said, his mouth moving at a somewhat faster pace than his brain. 

“Oh no, doctor! The shot is a nutrient booster. And the medication, 5-hydroxy florasulam, is a Cardassian antidepressant.” Marka seemed more amused by Julian’s foolishness than upset. That was a good sign at least. 

Bashir let out a sigh of relief. 

“Many Cardassians are not at ease in this new Cardassia, Dr. Bashir. We need to do what we can as medical professionals to give them access to life again.”

“Yes of course. I hope in time I am able to help”

***

When Julian arrived home in the evening he found Garak whisking a bowl of paste and humming to himself happily. He had already set the table with two plates. It was a sweet scene. Julian couldn’t help but smile. 

“Garak, tell me what exactly is a constitutional emergency?”

Garak looked up from the paste, smiling to see Bashir. “Doctor, I wouldn’t want to give away too many of my people’s secrets to some Federation spy.” Garak’s tone was light and playful. Julian was pretty sure he was kidding, but not sure enough. 

“Come now Garak, who would send someone oblivious and overly talkative as me to be a spy?” Bashir asked. Leaning into the ribbing seemed like the least suspicious thing he could do. 

“Now now, I didn’t say you were a good spy. Perhaps Federation standards are rather more lax.” Garak’s expression had settled into something altogether more neutral, but there seemed a mirth in his eyes. 

Julian wanted to smack him for such a comment, but settle for rolling his eyes instead. 

“So more paste, I take it,” Julian said, trying to hide a grimace. He took a seat at the table and waited for Garak to bring the paste over. 

“Yes, Doctor, I did say three times a day did I not?” said Garak, now gleefully spooning the slop onto Julian’s plate. 

“You did indeed.”

“Mmm… well just so long as you’ve been listening.”

“Oh, I always listen to you, Garak.”

“Is that so? Well how was your first day?”

“Highly pleasant. Dr. Marka is very capable, and seems to be unphased by my moments of cultural lapse,” Julian said, all the while trying to eat his paste without making his dislike of it too clear. 

“Oh cultural lapse you say?” Garak said, while beginning to make progress on his own bowl of paste.

Julian looked down, “I may have very briefly implied she was providing assisted suicides.” Garak’s eyes widened. 

“No! You didn’t!” Admitting such a ridiculous blunder was made somewhat easier to Julian as he enjoyed the look of pure horror in Garak’s eyes. 

“I did! But she took it rather in stride. So I’m quite hopeful we can form a productive working relationship, even as I continue to occasionally say things which are ill considered.” 

“I suspect there will be a period of not insignificant length, for which all of Cardassia Prime will have to be highly patient with one, Dr. Julian Bashir.” Garak’s tone was light and teasing, nonetheless Julian felt slightly goaded. 

“Haha, very funny Garak. Well perhaps you’ll be suitably horrified then to learn that when I accepted this posting, I was told one of the reasons I’d been chosen was my knowledge of Cardassian culture.”

“It really questions the whole premise of your smug Federation superiority.”

Bashir leaned in consitpratorily. “Well, unfortunately for you, my smug attitude has no basis in fact, and therefore cannot be diminished by your derision.”

“Very good, Doctor. I should be very upset if it was. Your smug attitude was one of my best amusements during my exile. It would be such a shame to lose such a constant companion”

Julian guffawed at that.“You’re simply incorrigible, Garak.”

“It’s one of your favorite things about me, is it not Doctor?”

“Mmm well it would be a shame to lose such a constant companion.”

Garak smiled at that, and chose to be silent for once, instead choosing to focus on finishing his paste. Julian directed his attention to his own bowl of paste which was still half full. They ate quietly for a bit, both seeming to adopt the strategy that quicker was better. 

As their meal drew to a close, Julian began to feel awkward for the first time that evening. What was he supposed to do now? 

Julian looked up from his nearly finished plate of paste. “Garak, would it be okay if I did some reading in your sitting room this evening? I have quite a lot of Cardassian medical information to learn.”

“Doctor, you are my guest. My home is your home. Please use it’s rooms as you like.” Garak made a sweeping gesture with his arm to emphasize the point. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose too much on you as a host.” He did really feel like an imposition. He looked down at his plate, feeling like he had perhaps put his foot in his mouth. Garak reached out with his index finger and raised Bashir’s chin till they were looking into each others eyes.

“ _ Julian _ , I gave you a key. This is your home too now, for as long as you wish to stay.” It was the first time Garak had used his first name since he’d arrived. Garak’s eye’s remained fixed on Julian’s, but he let his hand slowly drop from the doctor’s chin. Julian’s face was a mixed of surprised vulnerability. He looked down finally, away from the intensity of the shared eye contact.

“Thank you, Elim.” 

“Oh it’s nothing doctor,” said Garak seamlessly returning to a breeziness from earlier in the evening. 

“Well, regardless it means a great deal to me. If you have time, I’d be happy to have you join me to read this evening. 

“I’d like that very much.”

***

Garak’s sitting room had a large L shaped couch in dark grey which dominated the space. Julian surveyed the couch for a moment, and decided the best seat was the corner. He tucked himself into it, resting his padd on his knees. He’d loaded  _ On Health and Illness _ , and began with chapter one, an incredibly detailed account of healthy versus diseased Cardassian skin. The work was rather more intriguingly written than Julian had expected, so he was startled out of his focus when Garak came in with his own padd. He jolted awkwardly in the seat.

“I didn’t mean to startle you Doctor, I am simply joining you. I thought I would give your  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ a try.”

“Oh good. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on it.” Julian smiled softly. 

Garak took the seat one over from him, and began to read. Julian turned his attention back to common Cardassian skin funguses. They sat in companionable silence until after several hours Bashir begged off, needing to get some sleep. 

As he tried to fall asleep, Julian reflected on just how easy it had been to spend the whole night with Garak. He’d been here less than 36 hours, and somehow he already felt at ease. Maybe Miles had been right and this had been a good assignment for him. 

But then of course, there was the assignment. Was Devin being entirely transparent about his reasons for sending Julian here? Was enjoying Garak’s company manipulating him? Or did Garak know about the whole thing already? 

Julian slept fitfully. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really rather fond of this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it too :)


	10. Diplomatic Meetings pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian begins a day of diplomatic meetings

Julian came down for breakfast to find Garak gnawing on a gray block. 

“What are you doing Garak?” Garak’s eyes shot up from the table, but betrayed no surprise. 

“Eating breakfast, my dear doctor. This is what happens when you don’t add water.”

Julian grabbed the second grey bar from the counter, opened the thin waxy paper package and bit down hard. He experienced immediate regret. The sandy texture remained, but where there had been a gelatinous paste, there was now what may generously described as ash. It was still overly salted. 

“Fuck!” Julain said, rather inadvertently. 

“Sorry doctor, I was running a bit behind schedule this morning, so I didn’t get up in time to soak our breakfast.”

“I wasn’t clear that it required soaking.”

“Yes. One to two hours. But not more!” Garak exclaimed seriously. 

“Not more? You’re telling me there is a third version of this meal, more inedible than the two I have previously tried?” Julian felt a horrid sort of shock. 

“Yes, Doctor, the word sludge has been thrown around.” Garaked seemed almost amused. 

After breakfast, Garak walked Julian to the Capitol building. Even in the summer, the cool dawn light made Cardassia Prime an almost reasonable temperature for Julian, which meant the sweat must be from the nervousness. 

The Capitol building was in a slightly more westerly direction than the clinic, so Julian was able to appreciate a better view of what must have once been downtown as they headed there. Once again Julian saw a hodgepodge of buildings old and destroyed, those repaired and new construction growing out from crags, like flowers. Julian’s eyes were drawn to a large building towards the heart of the city; it was evident the large building used to have a grand dome - now all that remained were support beams. 

Garak noticed Julian’s attention. “The once great capitol building. Home to the Depata Council and much of the government bureaucracy. It is being rebuilt though, as you can see.” Garak pointed and Julian was able to make out men on the roof laying tiles. “Restoring the grandness of such a building is crucial to building faith in our system.”

“The people have to respect the civilian government in the way they respected the Central Command and the Obsidian Order,” Julian reflected. 

“Yes,” said Garak. “Otherwise there is little hope of us learning from our mistakes.” 

***

Inside the capitol building was almost maze-like. Thin corridors with high ceilings, and almost no defining features. Garak happily pointed Julian toward his first meeting, before immediately disappearing down the hallway. 

Julian’s first meeting of the day was with the head of the diplomatic core, Secretary Jenile Tol. He remembered from his briefing documents that she had been a teacher for students pursuing politics and government before the war. He wondered if she were the type with a latent ambition, that now in ruined world was able to flourish. Or perhaps she was the type with no designs for power, who other’s recognized as competent and found herself promoted thusly. 

When he entered her office, he found a relatively sparsely decorated room, but which did have large windows pointed on the gardens behind the state building. A coveted office location no doubt. 

Secretary Tol stood behind her desk. She was tall and thin, seeming almost willowy. It was a contrast from the usual solidness that Julian associated with Cardassians. Her shiny black hair was long and clasped into a low ponytail at the back of her neck.

“Ambassador Bashir, It is such an honor to meet you at last.” She smiled with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It took Julain a second to respond to the title. It’s inappropriate usage no doubt a move in and of itself. 

“You as well, Secretary Tol. Though I am afraid I am no Ambassador. Liaison is a more appropriate title, though I must admit I prefer Dr. Bashir,” Julian said, calculating if that would be considered an appropriate response just slightly after he’d said it. Secretary Tol’s expression remained unchanged, so perhaps it was acceptable. 

“Dr. Bashir then,” she gestured to the armchair seated in front of her desk. “As far as, I am concerned as the Federation’s sole representative on Cardassia you are as good as an Ambassador.” Julian only just stopped himself at wincing at that statement. 

“It is my sincere hope that I am able to cultivate a strong working relationship between our two governments. But I am not here to push a political agenda, only to help. If there comes a time when official treaties or agreements are made, I am sure that would be considered well out of the scope of my expertise.”

“Hmmm well shall see about that in time, Doctor.” Her eyes remained fixed on him, and the doctor harnessed all his self control in order to not squirm under her gaze. “We are very happy to finally have the resources to be able to host a Federation representative. Please feel free to reach out if your accommodations are unsatisfactory. Councilor Garak was adamant that you should like to stay with him. However, if he has exaggerated the extent of your friendship, I should be happy to find your more comfortable arrangements.” 

Julian was unsure if he was being tested or if perhaps Secretary Tol and Garak were rivals. Regardless he chose a response both political and honest. 

“I am quite comfortable staying with Elim.” He smiled in a way which he hoped Tol would understand meant to leave it alone. 

“I am glad to hear it. We’ve been so looking forward to a strong relationship with the Federation. I would hate to see problems with that relationship caused by interpersonal concerns.” Julian was unable to tell from her tone if she was glad to hear it at all. 

“A strong relationship between our two governments is my hope as well. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to encourage that relationship.”

“I suspect Enah and Parmek will have concrete requests from you in terms of Federation aid. My request is more personal, and perhaps harder to deliver upon.” Tol clasped her hands in front of herself, and maintained a stiff, formal posture. 

“Yes?” Julian worked to mask the concern on his face with some limited success. 

“Do try and keep this posting for a while Doctor. While what the Federation decides about diplomatic positions may be out of your hands, you are certainly not completely powerless in this regard.”

“The nature of my posting is indefinite and very much subject to Federation approval.”

“Yes all the same. The Cardassian people appreciate loyalty. If the Federation continually sends new personnel, each with short postings, Cardassians may perceive that no one from your organizations cares enough to stay. You can imagine how this might hurt our relationship.” Tol looked at Julian with stealy seriousness in her eyes. 

“I did not come here with the understanding that this would be a short assignment,” said Julian evenly. 

“Good. Well Doctor, it has been a tremendous pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope this will be the start of something truly great.”

“Yes, myself as well.”


	11. Diplomatic Meetings pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends!

Julian’s next meeting was with Tornila Enah. His briefing contained fairly little information on her. Only that she’d previously been a civil engineer involved in water management. As a result he was completely unprepared for her enthusiasm as she ushered him into another completely undecorated Cardassian office. 

“Dr. Bashir! It is so great to have you here! I am very excited to tell you more about construction on Cardassia!” The woman was Garak’s height, but a bit thinner. Her hair had several gray streaks in front, and was as untidy as Julian had ever seen on a Cardassian, forming a sort of bun-like nest on the top of her head. 

“Yes, Er. Hello Secretary Enah. The pleasure is all mine,” Julian said as he walked in awkwardly. He was beginning to repress his natural urge to shake hands upon meeting but it left him feeling like there was something he was missing. 

“Can I get you anything, Doctor?” The woman smiled brightly at Bashir, with none of the political undertones of his previous meetings. 

“Some water would be appreciated. I’m still adjusting to the weather.”

“Ah yes, Cardassia Prime is probably a bit too warm for you Doctor. I’m sorry about that!” Enah said punching a few commands into a wallside replicator, and then grabbing the water that appeared, setting it in front of Julian. 

“I will adjust,” Julian said kindly. Though he wondered if he would. 

“Ah yes. We Cardassians have become masters of adaptation in the past several years. I’m eager to chat about all the progress we’ve been making in our reconstruction efforts.” 

“I’d love to hear more,” encouraged Julian. 

“Oh good,” said Enah, pulling a map out and unfurling it onto her desk. “Well for better or worse the majority of the reconstruction effort has been focused in the Capitol and several other large cities on Cardassia Prime. Some of the more rural areas got by with very little damage. Those that suffered greatly were largely abandoned. As a result while much of our population died in the war and subsequent rebellion, the refugees from rural provinces have made the city populations close to what they once were. This has of course presented some significant setbacks.” 

“I can imagine.”

“Well 14 months ago, we had no power, no reliable source of food or water, and intense overcrowding in the available shelters. As I hope you can see much of those problems have begun to be dealt with.” Enah’s face was serious. 

“Yes, what made you so able to deal with these shortcomings?” Julian asked curiously. He’d considered how far Cardassia still had to go, but not as much time on how far they’d come. 

“We were able to salvage parts from a number of Cardassians remaining warships to restore the city power grid. That was a major advancement, and has allowed for us to replicate food and water.”

“That’s an impressive undertaking,” Julian said quietly. 

“Yes indeed it was a triumphant day for Cardassia Prime when we got the power grid functioning again. Of course, there have been shortcomings. Our ability to generate energy is still well below our desired capacity. Much of the capacity goes to keeping the population fed. This holds back our construction ability.”

“How is progress in the agricultural sphere? I assume this is being investigated as an alternative means of feeding the population,” Bashir asked. 

“Why yes, unfortunately the soil in many areas has been thoroughly poisoned. There were only several soil reclimators that survived the final days of the war, so this has been slow progress.” Enah pointed to the map she’d laid on her desk which showed the capital city and the surrounding provinces. She pointed at several small circled areas on the outskirts of the city. “These areas are the extent of the local soil reclamation thus far. Our counterparts in Lakat and Lakarian City have seen similar lack of progress.” 

Julian’s face scrunched with concern. The situation, though improved in the last year, was nowhere near where it needed to be. 

“And the Federation?”

“Has been unfortunately somewhat disinterested in providing aid. Perhaps you may be able to shift their perception somewhat.” Ehna smiled. 

“I hope so. Please continue.”

Ehna launched into a several hour long discussion of infrastructure repair, brick sourcing, transportation adjustments, and so on. Each topic was apparently as interesting as the last, and in all areas Ehna seemed knowledgeable and exuberant. Julian spent most of the conversation nodding and being thankful for his near perfect memory. 

***

After his meeting with Ehna, Julian had a little time to grab lunch at the replimat. The light and airy beige room was nearly empty since it was well past the usual lunch time. All the same there were several Cardassians, hunched over padds, or quietly chatting. Julian went to the replicator to find 2 options - the grey bars in varying sizes, and a glass of water. Julian picked the mid size bar, along with a large glass of water. He inhaled the bar as quickly as possible and headed for his final meeting of the day. 

Julian was exhausted and the chalky taste in his mouth from his lunch provided little comfort. The combination of Tol’s political hot and cold, and Ehna’s technical monologue had left him entirely ready to sit on Garak’s couch and read happily about the Cardassian circulatory system. 

And of course that’s how he felt, heading into his most important meeting, with the head of the Department of Health, Kelas Parmek. Not only did Julian wish to get a more thorough idea of the public health situation on Cardassia, but he also knew Kelas to be a close friend of Garak. Either fact alone would have been enough to make Julian anxious to make a good impression. Garak’s letters painted a picture of a man who was honest and kind, if matter of fact. 

Julian knocked on his office door and bid to enter. When he did, he was struck how handsome Parmak was. He seemed a few years older than Garak, and had long flowing silver hair, which was tied back in a braid. He had strong facial features with a defined jaw and a serious demeanor. His eyes were a soft and deep brown. All at once, Julian felt a short of chest tightness he could not explain. 

“Dr. Bashir, an honor to meet you at last. Elim speaks highly of you.” Kelas extended his hand for Julian to shake, which took him somewhat by surprise. Kelas’ hand was callused and cool. 

“The feeling is mutual, Dr. Parmak. I’ve read so much about you,” Julian smiled but it felt disingenuous even to him. _This was Garak’s friend damn it! Why did he feel ill at ease?_

“Do sit down doctor,” said Parmak, gesturing to a nearly identical chair from his previous meetings. It seemed the furniture had been produced in bulk. Julian took the chair, keen to not stand awkwardly overlong. 

“I’m eager, Dr. Parmak, to hear more about the public health situation on Cardassia Prime. I noticed yesterday my first day at the clinic that you seem to be having issues of malnutrition even with ample food,” said Julian. He hoped the Kelas who’d been described to him, the one that liked to get straight to the point, was present for this meeting. 

“Yes it’s a rather unfortunate situation, as you noted. I would not begin to say our food is ample in supply. We are able to replicate just enough to feed everyone, however there is no surplus should there be a second round of refugees coming in from the outer provinces,” Parmak said, gravely. 

“I see. The reason the rations taste so bad -- it is because they are minimal?”

“Yes indeed. We’ve devised the minimum possible amount of energy required to make a single transportable, shelf stable and complete meal. The result of course is not entirely pleasant, but Cardassians are happy to make such sacrifices for the union.” Julian doubted very much anyone would ever be happy eating such a food but kept these thoughts to himself. 

“I assume attempts have been made to make the food more palatable?” Bashir asked. 

“Oh yes. Unfortunately, we have not been able to find a more edible food that retains sufficient nutrient content while costing relatively little energy from our replicators. As it is, maintaining sufficient supply requires a large fraction of our available grid power. Hopefully as agricultural activity increases we will be able to use that replicator power for construction, medicine, and other highly lacking essential supplies.” Julian nodded.

“I’m curious, yesterday I saw very few patients with infections of any kind. This struck me as surprising.”

“You are a keen observer, Dr. Bashir.” Parmak said, seriously, leaning in somewhat. “The Cardassian summer, like on many other planets, is a time of relatively good health. This past winter we had a horrible resurgence of an old scale fungus associated with poor hygiene. Unfortunately, I have no reason to believe this problem will not return in full force in winter, as we are still experiencing overcrowding and limited availability of washing facilities.” 

“This fungus, how treatable is it?”

“Most will recover with limited medication.” Kelas frowned, continuing. “About 10 percent require a stronger medication which has been in short supply. With no changes, about 3 percent of those who are infected will die.” 

The conversation deepened and meandered. And over the course of an intense hour, Dr. Parmak laid out the problems of the Cardassian medical system in its current state. The maladies of old age, once manageable where now almost always death sentences - many Cardassians were currently seeking no medical treatment whatsoever for these types of ailments. Replicated organs were not a feasible option in most cases as they were simply too costly. Wealthy Cardassians were able to negotiate improved healthcare on a black market, but for most treatment for common maladies could result in real risk. 

Pregnancy had become increasingly dangerous, with a new practice being introduced such that a wife would pick a new woman for her husband to marry should she die in childbirth. This arrangement existed to limit the possibility of orphans, and also sought to deal with the reality that the gender ratio had been highly screwed as many men had died in the military. 

On and on, each new problem Kelas introduced seemed more bleak than the last. Julian nodded gravely and asked questions as he saw fit. 

As Parmak drew to the close describing the limited care available for amputees, made common by construction cave-ins at partially demolished sites, he noticed Bashir looked rather distraught. 

“Doctor, you seem upset,” Parmak remarked curiously. 

“I am embarrassed. I feel I under-estimated the scope of the problems here. I hope I am able to be of some help” Julian admitted, his face feeling warm. 

Kelas looked him over with an expression Julian couldn’t parse. “The Cardassian Provisional Government is very excited you’re here doctor. Any Federation aid which you would be able to facilitate would be very helpful.”

“I’ll do my best, though I must make no promises,” Julian replied, with a grimace. “If you could send me along a list of requested supplies, I will be conferencing with the aid office in several days.”

“I am glad to hear it. I will pass along our departmental requests.” As Julian stood up to take his leave, Parmak continued. “Are you headed home? If so I would like to walk with you.”


	12. Diplomatic meetings pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelas walks Julian home or I wrote a whole chapter without once mentioning paste

Kelas was particularly insistent that he be allowed to walk Julian home. It was the heat of the day, and for the late Cardassian summer, that meant Julian was sweating almost the minute he walked outside. The light was dim and orange and already fading. 

“I must admit, I’m glad you accepted my offer of company on your walk home, Doctor. It gives us this chance to talk outside the office. It provides so much more leeway to get to know one another, don’t you think?” Kelas asked. He walked with confidence, but his pace was measured, slow even. Julian had to keep himself from bounding forward at his usual pace, the result being an additional feeling of being off balance. 

“Yes me as well. Garak spoke well of you in his letters. And please call me Julian or at least Bashir. Especially when we are just together socially,” Julian smiled, feeling altogether more genuine and disposed to like Parmak than he had several hours ago. 

“Yes, Elim and I have become good friends over the past year, but I think not so good as you and he.” Kelas looked at Julian, trying to see answers in his face. Julian ignored that. 

“We did know each other a long time. Many lunches together on DS9.” Julian felt very keenly all of a sudden that perhaps this was a more political conversation than any others he’d had today. 

“Yes Garak speaks fondly of them.”

“I’m glad, I think fondly on them,” Julian replied. 

“Many afternoons spent arguing literature as he tells it,” said Parmak, once again attempting to look at Julian in a way meant to convey something. 

“Oh yes, we often got quite heated. I never could quite appreciate the repetitive epic if you’ll excuse my saying so,” said Bashir, desperately trying to sound light in tone. 

“Having read Cardassian literature for many years you must know Julian, that this is how Cardassians flirt.” Kelas slowed his pace some, throwing Julian off balance twice in a minute. 

“Well yes. But it was always in jest between him and I. It was a space station, not many options for either of us.” He gave a little laugh, and scratched the back of his neck. It was dripping with sweat from walking uphill in the summer heat. 

It seemed this was enough for Parmak to pounce. “Oh I think you are wrong there…. I think Elim feels quite sentimental towards you.” His eyes flashed, no longer a soft brown. 

“Well like I said, we were friends for a long time,” Julian continued, trying his very best to not convey the discomfort he felt in this conversation. 

“Mmm yess about that. How many letters did your friend Elim write you in your time apart?” Parmek asked innocently, though Julian was beyond being fooled at this point. 

“63,” Julian responded automatically, kicking himself for not filtering himself more heavily.

“And how many did you write him, Julian?” Kelas asked, seemingly knowing the answer. 

“10” there was no point in lying. His face was hot, if not from embarrassment, than from the weather. 

“And you think writing to you nearly weekly for over a year is friendly, especially with so little enthusiasm received in return? I think that’s romantic,” Parmek replied smoothly. 

“I appreciate your interest but it’s none of your business,” said Julian, deciding he was just about done with this. He set his face in a serious expression, attempting to look unreadable as possible. 

“Well, yes you're right. I just think it’s funny that you can pull such a disappearing act and then just come back as if it hadn’t happened. It’s suspicious. It’s flighty. You are less than Garak deserves. But nonetheless he cares for you a great deal, so tread lightly Doctor Bashir. Don’t say or do anything you don’t completely mean.” 

Just as Kelas said this, Garak’s home came into view. Garak was in the front yard, hunched over a bed in his garden. The terracotta colored Cardassian soil clung to Garak in a thin, dust like way. A dark grey smock protected an olive green ensemble beneath. His strong forearms moved with a concerted tenderness, planting what appeared to be some sort of yellow tuber. Having a garden clearly suited him, as he seemed almost lost in his own world. He stood up as they approached. 

“Ahhh my two favorite doctors are here. Will you join Julian and I tonight for dinner, Kelas?” Garak exclaimed as they approached. His face betrayed a smile of genuine fondness. 

“Oh no, I had better be going! Another time, I’m sure,” shouted Kelas up the steps to Garak. He turned to Bashir to add more quietly “It was so very nice to chat, Julian. I feel we’ve learned quite a bit about one another.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Garak didn’t seem to notice, it could be the distance or maybe he was pretending. 

“We’ll see you and Telora his weekend, yes?” Garak inquired, hopefully. 

Parmak smiled. “I’ll check with her, but I think we can make it yes.”

“Good, I look forward to it as always.” Elim smiled wide. Julian walked up the steps, and found himself wondering,  _ who the hell is Telora? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kelas is really trying to help!!
> 
> I wrote this conversation ages ago, and I finally got to it! I hope you like it :)


	13. Telora?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian continues to be flustered

“Who exactly is Telora? And what is this weekend?” Julian asked following Garak into the house, doing his best to seem entirely not shaken up by his conversation with Kelas Parmak. Garak smiled at him, his eyes entirely too amused to find the doctor flustered. 

“When the war ended, and I acquired this terribly ugly home, it was entirely stocked with food and such. Of course we ate most of it right after the war. What we did not, and have still not finished is a large collection of kanar, over 500 bottles.” Garak grabbed a bowl which he’d apparently added water to earlier, and began whisking paste as he continued. “How so many of the bottles managed to stay intact during the bombing, I cannot say. But for the last year, every other Saturday or so, Kelas, Telora and myself open a bottle, and get delightfully intoxicated on very expensive kanar.” Garaked smiled serenely, evidently thinking back on many a pleasant evening. 

“And Telora is who now?” Julian interrupted. 

“Yes yes I’m getting there, my dear doctor!” Garak exclaimed. “Telora is Kelas’s wife. I cannot believe she was not mentioned in any of my letters.” Garak turned to look at Julian rather expectantly. 

“No I do not think she was. But perhaps I’ve just forgotten it. I only have a genetically augmented perfect recall.” Bashir did his best to glare at Garak but the sight of the man furiously whisking grey paste was so comical as to take the edge off a bit. 

“Mmm then perhaps it was my own lapse,” said Garak, dishing out paste for each of them and then sitting down at the table.

“I think you mean omission.” replied Bashir, sitting down rather more in a huff than he intended. 

“Whatever reason could I have for such an omission?” Garak asked, maintaining an even tone while starting in on his paste. 

“I have not the faintest idea,” Julian lied, sitting down across from him. “Or why you chose to not tell me of these drinking nights you supposedly have so regularly. Perhaps if I had known about all this expensive kanar I would have been more eager to come visit you.”

“Well doctor, I have to leave some surprises for if you did visit,” 

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t want to drop the whole intrigue act,” Julian said bitingly. 

“Act? I assure you it’s no act, I’m very intriguing.” Julian swore Garak sounded almost offended. 

“I assumed, because you sent me nearly 30,000 words worth of letters, that I knew anything about your life.” Garak calmly ate his paste as Julian sputtered on. “I now see that it was stupid for me to think that. Your correspondence must have been a collection of delirious lies and patent falsehoods, for the sake of your own amusement. It’s I who was naive for thinking otherwise.” Julian’s eyes flashed with annoyance. 

Garak looked up at the doctor, his eyes betraying a bitter edge. “Yes doctor, I spent a year writing letters from my destroyed homeworld, as I coped with a devastating new reality for my people, but all the while made sure to never include the truth. I’m glad we understand one another.” 

“You’re lying,” Bashir said flatly, the air suddenly let out of his tirade. He looked down at his nearly untouched paste, and pushed his spoon though it sort of halfheartedly. “I’m sorry Garak. It was a long day. I’m not very good at politics, and it seems to have sapped me somewhat. All the same I shouldn’t make excuses for being so terribly rude to you in your own home.” He looked up, trying to convey his apology with his eyes. 

“Now doctor, don’t apologize,” Garak said, recovering instantly. Julian wondered for a second if he’d even been mad to begin with. “You of all people must know I appreciate a good tiff once and again. Now do tell, what made your day so trying?” 

Bashir, knowing he couldn’t tell the whole truth, thought fast on his feet. “I’m not convinced Secretary Tol is a fan.”

“Interesting, why is that?” 

“Well she offered to relocate my residence for one.”

“Well how very generous of her.”

“I of course assured her it was unnecessary,” Julian replied glancing back down at his paste. 

“Of course.”

“And then well both Enah and Parmak spent ample time relaying to me in no uncertain terms how brutal the situation is here, and it was fairly demoralizing. I don’t know how much the Federation aid office is going to be able to help. The situation on Betazed has been rather similar, and it being a Federation world has taken priority.” 

“Why send you here if they couldn’t help?” Garak looked over Bashir appraisingly. 

Julian sighed. “Well I guess we will see in a couple of days. I’m just somewhat weary.”

“Have I made a cynic of you yet doctor?” There was an edge of something in Garak’s voice. _Was it glee?_ Julian wondered. 

“Yes, though I do not think you can take all the credit.” Julian thought back to Devin, lounging in his apartment in San Francisco. 

“I am incredibly sad to hear it doctor, I thought Cardassia might benefit from your unrelenting Federation optimism. I always can.” Garak reached out and placed his hand over Bashir’s left hand. They shared a brief look, Julian turned his eyes down towards his plate.

“That’s very kind Garak. How was your day? I feel I have somewhat monopolized the conversation.”

“Don’t apologize. Writing a constitution is incredibly dull business.” 

“All the same, I’d like to hear about it.” Julian offered. 

“Well a major sticking point has been the role of the military as you might expect.” 

“Yes.” Julian nodded. “I assume some want to restore it to its former glory while others feel that would be a denial of what truly happened in the dominion war.” 

“Quite.” Garak nodded. “Though we shall eventually come to a compromise”

“You never told me, Garak. How did you come to be involved in writing the constitution?”

“Well, there was a feeling that for the constitution to be lasting it had to be agreed to by all the factions that existed before the war. I am one of 10 chosen from the Obsidian Order.”

Julian’s eyes lit up. “Did you run for the position?”

“No oh, I was nominated. Can you imagine me giving a speech?” Garak made a sound that sounded like scoffing. 

“I can actually,” Julian replied with a smile. 

“Pah! No no! This is my one and only foray into politics. I have completely lost my taste for it from the outset.”

“You prefer to kill your enemies?” 

“Yes, Doctor.” Garak’s tone was all seriousness. Julian couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “That is it exactly. And when the constitution is complete, if you’d like me to kill Secretary Tol, you need only ask.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Garak.” Julian’s voice hit a lower octave, a friendly disapproval. 

“You don’t need to make a decision now, Doctor.” Garak’s eyes contained a mirth that made Julian feel instantly at home. 

“Well in lieu of that, there is something I would like to ask you.”

“Yes go on." 

Julian fidgeted with his spoon, before replying “I don’t really have an office here. It would be nice to be able to have somewhere where I could take meetings, and have an encrypted channel to Starfleet.”

“Ah yes doctor, I think I may be able to find you just such a thing.”

“I would appreciate it.” Julian looked down to find his dinner entirely uneaten. 

***

They ended the evening, as they had ended the previous evening. Julian fully engrossed in learning the details of Cardassian bone development, while Garak occasionally made soft tutting noises at Slaughterhouse 5.

After one particularly loud exclamation from Garak, Julian almost turned to him and said “You don’t have to read it if you hate it so much”, but instead held his tongue. He liked hearing Garak’s gentle protestations, and didn’t want him to stop. 

There was something so perfectly content about an evening like this. So harmonious. The comfortable silence. But the second he went up to his room to sleep, Julian found himself guilty and anxious. Kelas’s words bounced around in his head. _No_ , Julian thought, c _learly it is Kelas who does not understand our relationship._ But the thought did not produce the comfort necessary for him to sleep easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Kelas a wife!! Tbh some other folks have written lovely fics where Julian and Kelas are in competition with each other for Garak’s love, or there's a triad situation. But I didn't want to do that, so I gave Kelas a wife.


	14. Cotoli Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian spends another day shadowing Dr. Marka

The next day, Julian was back at the hospital, watching Marka treat patients. Even though he was mostly just observing, medicine soothed him. Treating patients wasn’t that different in any particular place than another. And Dr. Marka was solid and steady. She inspired within him complete confidence, and she asked him no questions about his personal life. 

Toward the end of the day, a mother brought in her young daughter to the clinic. If the girl was human, Julian would have estimated her to be maybe seven, but he had no sense of these things with Cardassians. The mother was young-ish and quite pretty, Bashir couldn’t help but notice. She had worried eyes. 

“I think she has Cotoli Fever,” the mother said, looking pained. 

“That’s exceptionally rare for her age, it’s not usually seen till the early teen years,” Marka replied steadily. “Julian, have you read about Cotoli Fever yet?”

“No I can’t say I have, though I remember someone got it in the Never Ending Sacrifice.” Marka smiled at that. 

“I will first examine the throat for tell-tale swelling.” When Marka had the girl open her mouth, Julian was shocked to find it a ghastly shade of purple. Marka furrowed her brow, and pulled out her medical tricorder, holding it to the girl’s neck. After several long moments, Marka pulled the mother away from the girl, speaking with her in hushed tones. Julian was left with the girl, who seemed slightly nervous, but otherwise quite content. 

“You’re not a Cardassian,” she remarked thoughtfully, looking Bashir over critically. 

“No I am not. I’m human,” Julian said with a smile. The girl considered that for a bit. 

“Weird. Why are you here?”

“My government asked me to come, to learn and make friends.”

“Oh cool. Have you made any friends yet?” The girl asked, perhaps wondering who made friends with the likes of him. 

“Well I only just arrived, but Dr. Marka is becoming my friend. She’s a very good doctor.” Julian smiled.

“My mom likes her a lot.”

“You mom has good taste.” Julian looked over now at Marka and the woman. The woman looked on the verge of tears, and Marka was talking in a low and serious voice, just slightly out of range of Julian’s superior hearing. Not wanting the girl to notice her mother, Julian pressed on. “What subjects do you like in school?”

“I like to draw. But dad says art isn’t needed to rebuild Cardassia,” the girl replied matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Before the war, Cardassians took great pride in their art, and it was some of the best in the quadrant. A restored Cardassia includes artists,” Julian replied fondly. The girl beamed at that. Just as he had finished talking, the mother and Dr. Marka walked back towards them. The mother looked absolutely haggard. She picked up the girl from the exam table, and left, thanking the doctor on her way out. 

When the exam room was empty, Julian turned to Marka. “Did she have Cotoli Fever?” He asked. 

“Yes. A spectacularly bad case for one so young. She has between one and three years left to live,” Dr. Marka answered seriously. 

“And there’s nothing that can be done for her?” Julian felt a visceral horror, imagining that bright young girl slowly dying. 

“Normally, she could be cured easily. A regular injection once a week for about 6 months. But the plant, tripocordio, hasn’t been growing, and we simply don’t have the replicator energy reserves to treat something so involved.”

“So we’re just going to what? Let her die? Slowly?” Julian knew he was being too loud, but he couldn’t help but feel alarmed. 

“Unfortunately, Dr. Bashir there’s nothing else we can do. You have to understand, the amount of energy involved would reduce food supplies. Saving one Cardassia could starve ten more.” Dr. Marka looked pained, like someone explaining to a child that their pet dog would die soon. 

“Shit,” Bashir replied, much more quietly this time. 

“Shit, indeed.” Marka nodded. 

***

Julian came home in an understandably bad mood. He clearly broadcast it easily, for when he came into the kitchen Garak looked up from some embroidery he was working on at the kitchen table and immediately asked “Oh my dear doctor, what’s wrong?”

“You’ll call me naive,” Julian replied rather dowerly, sitting down across from Garak at the table. 

“Mmmm yes, I will, and it will be one of the great joys of my day. So tell me anyway,” Garak encouraged. 

“Well, a very young patient came in today with Cotoli fever, and Marka had to tell me that there is a cure, but that there aren’t the energy reserves to replicate it.” Julian put his head in his hands. Garak looked at Julian thoughtfully. 

“Oh Julian, I cannot tease you for that.” Garak reached out, grabbing one of Julian’s hands from his forehead, and rubbing it softly, comfortingly. Julian looked up to find effusive blues eyes staring at him. 

“I don’t know what I expected. I mean your letters described how dire things were, but I was so arrogant as to think my presence here would help, and would matter? How can I be a doctor when we cannot even provide cures we know will work? All the genetic enhancements in the world, and still I feel powerless to help.” Julian looked at Garak in a way that asked desperately to be given the answer. 

“Doctor, I’ve never known someone who wanted to help as much as you. But the struggle of reconstruction is not a problem that can be solved by one doctor, not even a very good doctor like yourself.” Garak looked at Julian imploringly, all the while continuing to softly rub his hand. “And just because you couldn’t help one patient doesn’t mean you won’t be helping soon enough. Kelas told me how happy Marka was to have another doctor; her clinic has been too busy since the day it opened.” Julian looked down and sighed. 

“I know all that intellectually, it’s facing it that’s hard.”

“Yes, I understand. Have some food and then I have a surprise for you.” Garak smiled. 

“A surprise?” 

“Nothing that exciting, Doctor.” Garak’s tone was admonishing, but his eyes were bright. 

***

The surprise turned out to require a bit of walking. The dusky light had a somehow orange quality that quickly fell into an inky navy night. It was a joyful night; Cardassians were on their stoops and in their yards having drinks and laughing. As they got closer to the center of the city, Julian saw several bars, happily full. 

“How is it that I cannot get much needed medicine, but bars are open?” Julian wondered out loud. 

“Well doctor, Kanar is simply not that hard to make. Especially the cheap stuff that everyone is drinking there. Well, not that the cheap stuff is that cheap anymore.” Garak sighed at that. 

After a few more minutes, they reached the Capitol building. “Why are we here Garak?” Julian asked, trying desperately to hide his suspicion. 

“Well, last night you said you wanted an office… and I was going to wait till after the weekend, but you seemed like you rather needed something to cheer you up.” Garak seemed almost nervous, though Julian couldn’t understand why that might be.

Garak swiped a card, letting them into the building, which at this point was empty of nearly everyone but cleaning staff. The sandy slate flooring amplified their footsteps as they made their way through the building. After only a few turns, Garak presented a door which now bore a plaque reading:

**Dr. Julian Bashir**

**Liaison to the United Federations of Planets**

“Garak, how did you find me an office in a single day?” Julian asked, opening the door. Within he found a nearly identical office to the ones he’d been in the other day. There was a replicator on the left wall, a desk with a built-in com panel, and two navy armchairs facing the desk. 

“Well doctor, you are an incredibly easy man to help. Nearly everyone in this building was falling over themselves to help the Starfleet Liaison.” 

Julian didn’t buy that for a minute. “Garak, who’s office have I stolen?”

“A low level minister, and he was happy to help. He got relocated to the annex.” Julian opened his mouth to protest. “Before you object Doctor, he was eager to further himself from those that would distract from his work.” 

Julian looked over the man in front of him appraisingly. Garak seemed to find this whole conversation highly amusing. 

“Thank you, Garak.”

“Oh, it was nothing really. I think you’ll find that whenever you’re in, many Cardassians will hope to speak to you. You won’t have a moment's peace, I’m sorry to say.” Garak didn’t look sorry at all.

“Well good. That is my job, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, I guess it is.”

“Do you mind if I check my messages before we walk home? Enah and Parmak were both supposed to send me requests for Federation Aid, and I’d like to forward them on as soon as possible.” After the day he’d had, Julian didn’t want Federation aid to be delayed even a weekend.

“Oh sure, go ahead Doctor. Shall I wait outside?” Garak gestured to the door. 

“If you like. Or one of these chairs is also fine.” The doctor sat down and opened his com panel, finding indeed he had already received requests from both Enah and Parmak. Garak sat down across from him, and watched casually. 

The list of requests was long and detailed. He felt at best the Federation might provide a tenth or a forth of what was requested. Food, clothes, construction materials, tools, medicines of all kinds, water purifiers, soil reclamators - the list was daunting. 

He combined the two lists and then composed a quick letter to someone by the name Amanda Johnson at the Federation Aid Office. 

_ Dear Ms. Johnson -  _

_ My name is Julian Bashir, and I’m the new Liaison to the Cardassian Union. You were given to me as my contact at the Federation Aid Office. I am excited to get to know you and work with you more in the coming weeks and months.  _

_ I have been on Cardassia less than a week, but have already found there to be a number of challenges here for an average person’s daily life. Medicine and healthcare are rationed, agriculture and construction are beginning but at a pace not appropriate to the scale of the problem. I believe this is a key moment for us to support the Cardassian people, and that any help given now will be returned 10 fold in the future.  _

_ I have attached a list of requests from 2 key Cardassian officials directing reconstruction efforts. The list is extensive so I suspect it will not be possible to fulfill all these requests, nonetheless any help the Federation is able to provide would be appreciated here.  _

_ Looking forward to working together.  _

_ Best,  _

_ Dr. Julian Bashir _

_ Liaison to the Cardassian Union _

Julian looked over the correspondence. Something of it seemed wanting, but he was unsure what. He felt very acutely how little he’d been trained for this. He was a doctor, not an ambassador or a politician. It was like being on Deep Space Nine for the first time again. He had absolutely no sense of if he’d said the right thing, or completely put his foot in his mouth. Hoping he’d not said something terribly wrong, he sent the message. Looking up he found Garak’s eyes on him. 

“Well that’s all I had. We can leave now.” Julian said with a smile. Garak nodded. He handed Bashir a silver key, and they locked his office on the way out, heading back into the navy Cardassian night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to the lovely ettaberrytea on tumblr for beta-ing!
> 
> One of my favorite things about Julian, is that he’s just so good (I think it must be one of Garak’s favorite things too).


	15. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak shows off Cardassia Prime

The next morning, Bashir woke to a rap on his door early in the morning. 

“Doctor it’s nearly 06:30 hours, we’ll have to get going if you want to see much of the city before it’s too warm for your delicate human sensitivities.” Garak said a little above his normal speaking voice, muffled by the closed door. 

“Thank you, Garak! I’ll be down in a minute,” Bashir shouted from the comfort of his bed, before stripping out of his blue striped pajamas and throwing on an emerald green shirt with a wide square neckline that seemed to be made of an appropriately light fabric. After passing consideration, he paired them with loosely fitting mustard yellow pants. A quick look in the mirror determined his hair was adequate, and he headed downstairs to meet Garak. 

Garak was seated at the kitchen table with a pad, and a glass of water. He looked up upon hearing Julian’s footfalls come down the stairs. 

“You’re wearing that?” He asked his eyes flashing with something Julian couldn’t quite identify. Garak himself was dressed in a maroon structured garment which revealed just a bit of neck ridge. 

“Er.. Yes. Do you have a problem with my clothes, Garak?” Bashir asked, taking a bit of a tone with the man. 

“Your sense of style is very... human, Doctor.” Garak sounded somehow both fond and condescending.

“Will my outfit offend sensitive Cardassian sensibilities?” Julian asked with a mix of earnest curiosity and gentle annoyance. “As I understand it, I’m supposed to improve the Federation’s relationship with Cardassia, not endanger it with wildly inappropriate fashion choices.” 

“Oh I think you may convert some to the Federation’s cause with that look,” Garak replied with a smirk. 

“Well in that case it sounds like I should stick with it.” Julian grabbed a glass of water and sat down. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, Doctor. We had really better be going.” Garak stood up and passed a small day bag to Julian, who quickly finished his water. 

Julian followed Garak outside, down the steps and onto the street. It was still dark above, with a light lavender creeping over the horizon. It was craggy and desolate, and for the first time Julian got to take in the city without the hustle and bustle of people. There was sparse vegetation, and so, so many demolished buildings. Julian walked beside Garak, as they both enjoyed the peaceful silence of the morning. 

As the lavender began to fill the sky, pushing out the navy tones of night, Julian heard a sort of clicking begin.  _ Some sort of insect? _ He thought briefly he might ask Garak, but was savoring too much the morning silence. 

They walked at least a half hour at a respectable pace, finally reaching what Julian determined must be a park. They sat down on a bench overlooking the city. Julian enjoyed the view, even with all the destruction Cardassia was a beautiful place. He slipped his hand into his pocket, running his fingers over the ridges of the small key that rested there. 

Finally, Garak broke the silence. 

“We’re looking down at the Coranum sector, the oldest part of the city, where many of the wealthiest Cardassians once lived. Back when there were wealthy Cardassians.” Garak pointed out across the city, and Julian saw a peppering of large and beautiful houses, among piles of refuse and rubble. Towards the center of the sector, Julian noticed a particularly large building, half destroyed.

“What was that?” he asked, gesturing to the ruin. 

“Ah yes, that was once the great Capital Museum. Home to some of the greatest works of art ever made on Cardassia. The Dominion not only tried to destroy us, but also our cultural legacy.” Garak’s tone was heavy, bitter. Julian felt immediately bad for having asked. 

“I’m so sorry, Garak.” He turned to the man, trying to convey with his eyes that he hadn’t meant to upset him. Garak didn’t turn towards him, and instead, stared down at the terracotta soil beneath his feet. 

“Oh no,” replied Garak, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “As I have remarked to you before, we certainly deserved it. In our arrogance we thought we could be allies with the Dominion.” Garak seemed small and sad. Julian didn’t know what to say, and instead found himself patting Garak’s arm, a gesture which he was convinced Garak found absolutely no comfort in.  _ But what else was there to do? _

“Is there art left to see?” Julian asked hopefully. “If so I’d love to go sometime. You taught me about Cardassian literature, but I must admit I’m completely ignorant of the Cardassian visual arts.”

“Yes, some of the pieces survived, but the museum hasn’t been opened to the public, so we may be hard pressed to see it,” Grarak replied, finally turning his head to look at Bashir. 

“Hmmm… not even for the Federation Liaison and his friend?” Julian smiled hopefully. 

“Perhaps if you asked them very nicely.” Garak smiled softly. 

The morning continued much in the same manner for quite a while. Julian would point out buildings or landscape features, and Garak wove tales about them. The extent of the truth involved was somewhat hard to parse, but whether it was a history lesson or a game was almost immaterial. The lavender was fading from the landscape fast, and before Julian knew it he was starting to sweat from the heat of the day. 

Garak noticed his discomfort nearly at the same time he did. “Shall we head home, Doctor?”

“Sure, if you like,” Bashir replied,in a feeble attempt to pretend more comfort than he felt. 

They began walking back through the city, letting the quiet fall over them once again. There was no breeze, and the heat was becoming oppressive, although apparently the doctor was alone in that opinion since he saw many more Cardassians in the streets and in their yards than earlier in the day. Julian was pondering if the former royal family of Cardassia had actually been stoned to death 400 years ago when Garak piped up. 

“You’ll be happy to hear, Doctor, that I finished Slaughterhouse 5,” Garak said cheerfully. 

Julian smiled at that. “I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it.”

“I don’t think someone who knows how to write needs to preface their novel with a chapter about their own life and writing process. I found it both lazy and self important.” Garak’s reply was matter-a-fact, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“Self-important?” Julian responded incredulously. “It contextualizes the whole novel!”

“Ah yes the whole novel. Completely absurd by the way.” Garak waved his hand dismissively.

“The absurdist style parallels the absurdity of war. The style is key part of his argument!” Julian felt a rivulet of sweat drip down his back. His face felt hot. 

“Ah yes the absurdity of war. Well certainly he was right about that,” Garak agreed. 

“Thank you,” Julian replied, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He was not prepared for what Garak said next. 

“It is absurd to go to war when an assassination or two will do just fine.”

“What?” Julian’s brow furrowed automatically. 

“Did you not hear me, Doctor? I was under the impression humans had better hearing than Cardassians,” Garak replied self-assuredly. 

“Let me get this straight… You think the absurd thing about World War II is that Hitler wasn’t assassinated?” Julian felt that the heat must be getting to him. 

“Yes. The whole thing could have been easily prevented,” Garak continued. 

“Garak, you are absolutely unbelievable.” They were just approaching the house now, midday, the sun reaching nearly it’s height and causing real heat. Julian found he needed a breather. 

“Oh it’s one of my best features don’t you think?” Garak smiled, opening the front door, and walking in. 

Julian followed. He was hot and tired and his ability to follow Garak’s logical jumps was decreasing by the minute. 

“I think I’m going to sort out some personal correspondence, and maybe have a nap if you don’t mind,” Julian decided. 

“Oh by all means,” Garak replied, a flicker of something Julian couldn’t identify changing in his eyes. 

He grabbed a tall glass of water from the replicator and headed upstairs. When he got to his room, Julian laid down, expecting to quickly fall asleep after the heat and exertion. Instead he found himself once again restless. After half an hour he decided his time would be better spent sending a few letters before Kelas and Telora came over for dinner. 

_ Miles -  _

_ You and Keiko were right. Doesn’t that feel good to hear? Don’t rub it in too much. My first week on Cardassia Prime has a much desired change of pace. The situation on the ground is not all together good. There is rationing of medical care and the food is limited and poor. But it feels like a situation where my skills are needed, and I feel like I might be quite helpful here. All in all, you may pat yourself on the back for your encouragement.  _

_ If Garak is mad at me for inability to hold a correspondence, he’s kept it very close to the chest. Staying in his home has been a happy arrangement for both of use so far as I can tell. But then I can’t tell much of anything from him. What’s new, eh? _

_ I still do feel some apprehension about the circumstances which brought me here. I do not feel I necessarily understand the Federation’s true intentions, nor what my purpose here truly is.  _

_ All the same, I feel optimistic. And that has not been an easy thing for me to say often these past few years.  _

_ Give my well wishes to Keiko and the kids.  _

_ Julian  _

  
  


_ Nerys -  _

_ I realized today I never thanked you for pushing me out of Deep Space 9. I hope you can tell I’m sincere. I needed that push. Life on Cardassia Prime is different, but dare I say in a good way? Garak is a gracious host, and I can tell there’s a lot of room for me to help here. I always did like to help. I hope the station is good as always. I do miss when we had the whole gang together.  _

_ Best,  _

_ Julian  _

  
  


_ Ezri -  _

_ I’m terribly sorry I haven’t written sooner. We did say we would be friends, and I cannot say I have been a good friend to you. I hope the USS Franklin has treated you well. No doubt Keiko told Kira, and Kira told you that I find myself rather by surprise on Cardassia Prime, and living with Garak too! Anyway, this letter is only to say, I am well and I hope you are well too.  _

_ All the best,  _

_ Julian _

Having finished his letter to Ezri, Julian laid down again, this time finding sleep much more quickly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason, this chapter did not come easy. I've finally just decided to post it!
> 
> The following chapters have been coming along much more easily, so hopefully there will be more up soon.


	16. Kanar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortages on Cardassia Prime have luckily not impacted Garak's access to Kanar.

Julian came downstairs to find Garak in the kitchen, making audible tutting noises. He was wearing a burnt orange suit, with a high collar and a tunic like shape. Over it, he wore a dark forest green apron, clearly to protect his clothes from the mess of the kitchen. Garak hunched over a pan, frying thin slices of a yellow root vegetable. Julian lingered by the stairs, watching Garak, who would pull a thin slice of the root from a water bath and drop it into the pan, causing spurts of steam and oil. 

“Are those from the garden? Are we eating not paste tonight?” Julian asked, letting an edge of excitement come over his voice. 

“Yes! This is the murapa root. I hope you like it as it is one of the better yield garden crops,” Garak explained. 

“Is there a better way to do that, Garak? It looks like you’ll burn yourself any minute,” Julian asked, as he watched bits of oil continue to fly at Garak. 

“No. The root must be soaked to make it edible, but don’t worry Doctor, my skin is less sensitive than your own.” Garak smiled.

Julian furrowed his brow, but nonetheless sat at the counter and watched Garak cook. Occasionally spurt of hot oil would fly out of the pan, causing Garak to flinch away from the stove. 

Before long Kelas and Telora arrived. Kelas was in a dark green emerald jacket which made his long silver hair look very handsome. It was loose today rather than braided. The woman beside him was petite with jet black hair in a neat updo. She wore a long beige dress, which hugged her figure attractively. She looked at least 15 years younger than Parmak, but Julian couldn’t tell for sure. Despite the age difference, he thought they must be one of the more handsome couples he’d ever seen. 

Introductions were made, and Julian found himself chatting to Telora about her job as an engineer at one of the city’s main power plants. She was pleasant and engaging but all the same, Julian couldn’t help but watch from across the room as Kelas provide a considerable amount of unsolicited advice to Garak about his cooking, after which the oil seemed to fly around much less. If Telora noticed his focus was elsewhere, she was too polite to mention it. 

***

Julian found he was quite drunk. While nutritionally adequate, the murapa root did not fill his stomach in a way that delayed drunkenness. No, instead after 3 large sticky blue glasses of Kanar, each time poured for him by one or the other smiling Cardassian, Julian found himself appreciably tipsy. The good news was that his companions seemed to be likewise intoxicated. 

The four of them sat around the dining table, plates empty, and kanar flowing freely. Telora and Garak were in a sporting conversation about the best way to optimize garden space for nutrient purposes, Julian found himself mostly listening, letting the thick kanar coat his throat. Julian’s was that idle sort of drunk which allowed one to step back and quietly enjoy the company of friends. 

Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised Julian that Kelas was not feeling similarly idle. Perhaps bored by the last twenty minutes of garden talk, Kelas decided to change the subject. 

“Garak, when are you going to get married? You’ll have much better luck running for office if you have a wife.” Kelas’s face was smiling, but there was something unnerving in his eyes. 

Julian’s eyes widened, Telora rolled her eyes, and Garak hardly seemed to react. 

“Kelas, you have suggested that I get married and run for office half a dozen times, and each time I state emphatically my disinterest. Yet you persist. Telora, is he always this pushy or do I receive special treatment?” Garak asked good-naturedly. 

“Perhaps a bit of both,” reflected Telora. “He’s often quite stubborn, but I do think he considers you a special project.” 

“Why dear, how could I not? Garak returned from exile a hero. Once a spy and a torturer, and now a voice for the people. Don’t you find that poetic?” Kelas’ grey eyes glinted with something Julian couldn’t place. Julian felt his stomach coil and constrict. 

“You may call it poetic as much as you like, but that doesn’t mean I want you to write the poem.” Garak replied, his voice remaining level. “I’m a simple old man. I am perfectly content just to live on Cardassia again, and to contribute in my own way.” 

“Pah! All this calling yourself old. I will not hear it. There are so many lovely young ladies, and a shortage of men. Five years ago, Telora would not have looked at me twice. But with so many dead young men…” Kelas was on a roll when Telora interrupted him. 

“Oh that’s not true at all Kelas! I saw you many times in our neighborhood and always thought you handsome.” Her voice was decisive. 

“My wife is altogether too generous. It is her great failure.” Telora rolled her eyes again at this. “All the same, Elim, consider you might be improved by a wife,” Kelas suggested. 

“Oh I do not doubt that, but she would be so greatly diminished.” Garak’s eyes sparkled with self-satisfied amusement. 

“Now Garak! You speak of yourself so meanly. Let me set you up!” Parmak insisted. Julian felt his head spinning, and thought he’d perhaps had too much kanar. 

Telora stepped in then rather forcefully.

“Dear, I do not think our friend is sporting with us. He has said he is not interested. I think it’s well time you let it go, Kelas.”

“I am simply trying to help a friend!” Kelas asserted, though it seemed no one at the table was convinced. 

“This is an exercise in your own ego.” Telora exclaimed. 

“You accuse me of having an ego? I am completely without ego, instead I am considering only what is best for Elim,” insisted Kelas. 

“That’s preposterous. You have the biggest ego of any man I have ever met!” Telora replied fiercely. 

Julian's eyes flicked between the couple as they spared. Intellectually he sensed that this sort of argument was normal in Cardassian culture, maybe even encouraged, but all the same he felt awkward, like he was intruding on a private moment. He had no way to know when an argument was serious or in good fun, and the ambiguity made him nervous.  Telora and Kelas continued on arguing for several minutes until somehow the conversation turned to poetry, at which point Garak butted in and the argument ceased. 

Overall, the night was probably the least talking Julian had ever done at a dinner party. 

***

When Kelas and Telora had finally left, Garak turned to Julian and asked “Did you have a nice time? You seemed unusually quiet.”

“Yes I did, and I like Telora a lot.” Julian smiled. “As for not talking, it’s nice to be able to listen once and awhile.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more Doctor. And isn’t Telora a delightful woman? She and Kelas are very well matched.” Garak’s eyes took on a softness, and Julian could tell he really appreciated his friends. 

“You think so?” Julian asked, feeling acutely aware how little he understood Cardassian social customs on a practical level. 

“He meddles with my life just to give them a chance to really argue.” Garak smiled but his eyes seemed far away. 

“Huh,” was all Julian could think to say in reply, not entirely convinced. He turned to head upstairs to sleep, but at the base of the stairs a thought occurred to him unbidden. The kanar had loosened his lips, so instead of thinking the words just fell out of him. He turned back to Garak, and said seriously “You would not diminish your spouse.”

Garak’s face was one of pure surprise. His mouth opened slightly, as if to protest, but it was clear his brain had not caught up to Julian’s words. Seeing the look on his face, Julian continued. 

“I know you were probably just saying that. I know you love to exclaim scandalous falsehoods. But just in case you weren’t, I thought you should know,” said the doctor with a small smile. 

“I… Well… thank you, Doctor. Sleep well,” Garak replied, his eyes fixed on Julian. 

“You too, Garak.” Julian padded upstairs, a warmth in his chest he could not entirely attribute to kanar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did create a Kelas with absolutely no chill!! oops!


	17. Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet weekend day in the garden with Garak and Bashir

Julian woke up the next day with a pounding headache, and stayed in bed till late morning. When he finally ventured downstairs he found a plate of murupa root and a large glass of water waiting for him. Garak clearly understood that the paste was not good hangover food. He ate the root vegetable slowly, thankful he was not trying to consume the paste instead. He was convinced that that would have turned his stomach for sure. 

After slowly consuming his breakfast he peered around the house for Garak, finding him not on the couch or in his office, he opened the front door to find Garak with his knees in the dirt, weeding the garden. 

“Good morning, Doctor! Not so early to rise today I see.” Garak turned up from his crouched position to look at Julian, smiling at him. 

“No, I think I am not used to Kanar, unfortunately,” Julian winced. 

“Well there’s hundreds more bottles where that came from so you better get used to it,” Garak replied. 

“Okay, Garak.” Julian rolled his eyes, but without any real annoyance. 

Julian walked over and crouched beside Garak, assuming a squatting position. Garak’s sure fingers plucked small thorny dark green sprouts from the red brown soil. After a moment or two, Julian reached for one himself, immediately brushing his finger against a thorn. When it pricked him, the small prick immediately began to sting and he inadvertently let out a curse. 

“Better leave these to me, Doctor. When they get a bit bigger they can be quite toxic, but even still they’re quite unpleasant in the meantime, especially with your delicate human skin,” Garak explained gently. 

“Ah that’s too bad, I was just trying to help.” Julian frowned. 

“Your comforting presence is help enough, my dear Doctor,” Garak replied, briefly resting his hand on Julian’s shoulder. It was a solid and comforting touch, gone almost as soon as it had begun. 

“So are those the murupa root plants?” Julian asked point at the rather larger jade colored shrubs, which were even spaced throughout the bed. 

“Mmm yes indeed. Good eye. And here look.” Garak cleared away soil at the base of the plant showing yellow ochre bulges in the root system. Julian reached his hand out to touch the root, brushing the back of Garaks hand as he did. The surrounding soil felt powdery dry. 

“Garak, how can these plants grow with so little water?” Bashir asked. 

“Mmmm, I am glad you asked. You saw me soaking the roots last night, did you not?” prompted Garak.

“Yes, Telora mentioned something about excess minerals.” Julian paused for a moment, as Garak looked at him, waiting. “Oh! Of course!”

“You’ve figured it out then?” Garak replied with a smile. 

“I think so. The plant preferentially takes up salts and minerals to establish the osmotic potential and retain more water.” Julian felt that strum of warmness that came with answering a question right in class. 

“Yes, indeed. Though it is not the only thing. The photosynthetic reaction is not the same as your plants. It minimizes water consumption. Though for more details than that you’ll have to ask a botanist. I merely am a simple gardener.” Garak smiled. 

“You, a simple anything?” Julian furrowed his brow at Garak in a playful manner.

“Yes, a simple gardener,” Garak repeated seriously. 

Julian shook his head, but said nothing, content to watch Garak’s sure hands. It wasn’t too long though before the heat of the day pushed him into the shade of the house. He sat there languidly for several hours, letting the afternoon pass peacefully into evening. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done absolutely nothing. It was luxurious, but felt somehow wrong. Occasionally, Garak would ask him how he was or offer an amusing bit of conversation. Each time Julian would ask if there was some way he could help, and each time Garak would insist that he just relax. 

After a while he felt himself dozing off, leaning against the side of the house, closing his eyes for just a minute. 

He was shaken awake by a strong hand on his shoulder. He blinked away the fog from his eyes, to see Elim’s bright blue eyes staring down at him. 

“Doctor, you slept away both the morning and the evening. Humans are truly impossible,” Garak said with a smile. His hand stayed heavy and cool on Bashir’s shoulder. The light was beginning to turn that wonderful lavender. 

“Oh, really? I thought you rather liked that,” Bashir offered, making eye contact with Garak. All of a sudden, he felt light headed. He had hardly had any water, and clearly his hangover was rushing back with a vengeance. 

“I never said I didn’t,” replied Garak. He stood up, offering Julian a hand. The doctor took it, and stood up. “Let’s get you inside dear.”

After a quickly consumed plate of paste, and several glasses of water, Dr. Bashir felt much better. Garak in turn was maybe only a third through his plate of paste. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, my dear Doctor. Always rushing through meals,” Garak intoned, a spoonful of paste in hand. 

“Ah but Garak, perhaps this is so, but can you forgive me? This is not food worth savoring,” replied Julian. 

“Your point is conceded,” Garak replied. “Though I do not remember you eating much slower last night when I had cooked. Do you mean to imply the same about my cooking?” Garak’s eyes took on a look that Julian suspected he’d employed in the Obsidian Order. 

“Oh no, Garak. I would never dare imply anything uncomplimentary about your cooking. Anyway would you have me change my eating habits?” Julian asked. “I rather thought you liked my human failings.” 

“I tolerate your human failings. It’s very noble of me, if you think about it,” Garak replied. He affected a put out air which made Julian laugh softly.

Julian got up to get another glass of water, and Garak continued working on his own plate of paste. Julian turned back to Garak, offering a question. 

“I’ve been thinking, Garak, I have more human literature if you’re interested. Though after _Slaughterhouse Five_ perhaps you’ve decided to quit it entirely.” 

Garak paused for a second, considering the offer, and Julian walked back toward the table. 

“No, Doctor, despite the manifold failings of human literature, it seems I cannot give up our cultural exchange.” Garak smiled, though for a second Julian thought he saw something sad in his eyes. Julian blinked and it was gone, imagined maybe. 

“I am glad to hear it,” Julian replied, pulling out a datarod out of his pocket, passing it across the table to Garak. 

“Oh what is this Doctor?” Garak asked. 

“ _Persuasion_ by Jane Austen. A novel which in the over 500 years since it’s publication has become more and more recognized,” replied Julian. 

“Oh yes? What’s it about?”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to spoil it,” Julian said, shaking his head slightly. 

“Mmm, well I look forward to it,” replied Garak, slipping the datarod into his pocket. 

After Garak finally finished his paste, the two relocated to the living room, where Julian read _On Health and Illness_ , and Garak read _Persuasion_. It was a peaceful hour, on a peaceful day, and when Julian finally went up to bed, he wondered why he hadn’t decided to move to Cardassia himself. He could not remember feeling so comfortable since before the war. Even the hard Cardassian mattress felt somehow right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persuasion is a very chill book to give your longtime friend and definitely not about 7 years of yearning.
> 
> Next Chapter… Julian deals with the Federation Aid Office. Thanks to everyone who’s been leaving comments and kudos! I really appreciate it :)


	18. Federation Values

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets a response from the Federation Aid Office
> 
> Tigger warming for mentions of ableism (not a ton but just like fyi)

The next morning, Julian woke bright and early, feeling a good deal better than he had the morning before. He dressed in his uniform and went downstairs to find a plate of paste and note. Elim really did know how to rise before the light it seemed. 

_ Dr. Bashir -  _

_ I had an early meeting. Hope the paste is prepared to your liking. _

_ Garak _

It baffled Julian that even in letter form the man seemed to retain some of his snark. The paste was entirely adequate, the gritty and salty taste was not so much growing on him as becoming routine. A single glass of water was almost sufficient to wash away the lingering grit and vaguely unpleasant after taste. Perhaps his mouth just tasted like the paste now? Perhaps it was like how you can never tell the smell of your own home. It wasn’t a comforting thought. 

He walked through the growing morning glow of the city to his office. The walk was beginning to become familiar, allowing him to appreciate the details. A house with a particularly lovely garden, or another with a very bad paint job. He cataloged it in his mind, thinking he ought to ask Garak about what colors were considered overkill on Cardassia. 

When he got to his office in the morning, he saw his com station blinking. There was a response from the Federation Aid Office. 

_ Dr. Bashir -  _

_ Your request has been received by the Federation Aid Office. Please note that processing time is likely to take six months or longer.  _

_ From my personal experience, I think it is unlikely that much, if any of your request will be fulfilled. The aid office is swamped with requests from Federation planets, and non-Federation planets remain a low priority.  _

_ Have a nice day.  _

_ Amanda Johnson _

_ Federation Aid Office _

As he read the letter, Bashir felt a creeping despair. He thought of the girl, her disease slowly and pointlessly killing her. He looked briefly at his replicator, wondering if he could hack it to make the medicine. But how much energy would that use? Would that take medicine away from other sick people? Or food from the hungry? Would it make it so that construction slowed and people didn’t have a place to sleep?

There just wasn’t enough to go around. Cardassia needed outside help, and here the Federation seemed unwilling to lift a pinky. The problem was bigger than just one girl, it only being able to provide the bare minimum of needs to average citizens. 

He got up from the desk and began to pace back and forth, hoping against logic that somehow the exertion would bring him any insight. Nearly 15 minutes of pacing did absolutely nothing for the situation, and Julian collapsed into his chair feeling rather hopeless. 

Julian stared at the wall. Julian stared at his hands. Julian wanted to scream. Instead he allowed himself to sink his head in his hands, and let it stay there resting on his desk. 

After what felt like ages a knock came at the door. 

“Come in!” He shouted, trying to quickly school his features into something more neutral. 

A middle-aged Cardassian woman opened the door. She was very average height with hair in a high bun. Her gray dress looked clean, but seemed to be frayed at the edges. Cardassians in Julians estimation usually took great pride in their appearance. It wasn’t like this woman didn’t look presentable, but there was something telling about someone unable or unwilling to mend their clothes. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Julian asked. 

The woman smiled and responded confidently. “I was wondering if the Federation may be able to support my charity.”

“How about you take a seat and tell me about it. What’s your name by the way? I’m Julian Bashir.”

“Yes, of course,” replied the woman, taking a seat in front of Julain. “I know who you are Dr. Bashir. My name is Niskia, and I’ve been working to set up support for civilians permanently injured in the war.” Niskia’s voice held a warmth Julian did not often find in Cardassians on first meeting. 

“Nice to meet you. Please, tell me more about your organization,” Dr. Bashir implored .

“Well it’s all well and good to say those of us who are alive now are the lucky ones. But many of the survivors have not had an easy time. Our home became a war zone. Many lost limbs, lost eyes, all sorts of horrors. And I don’t have to tell you the medical infrastructure here is not up to the challenge presented by this problem. So many people, and many among them children, have been injured in ways which will likely not be repaired very soon, and some even who have passed the window where they can be healed.” Niskia’s eyes were green and earnest. Almost instantly, Julian understood that the state of her clothes reflected not sloppiness, but instead that her energy was focused entirely outwardly. He found, he already respected her endlessly. 

“I am well aware of this current shortcoming. What support do you provide?”

“Traditionally, Cardassia has not always been welcoming or supportive of people like this. With a culture so based on service, well those that can do less service are not always appreciated as they should be. I run support groups for these folks, a different one every evening of the week. But a week ago, the building we were meeting in had it’s roof collapse. No one was hurt, but now we have nowhere to meet. I have gone all over for support, but have found none,” Niskia explained. 

“Have you thought about using people's homes?” Bashir asked. 

“Largely these people do not have homes to offer. Neither do I,” replied Niskia seriously. 

Julian considered the problem momentarily. An idea occurred to him then which he weighed only briefly, before letting it spill out of him. 

“Well how about this. You have a group tomorrow night? That group can meet at Elim Garak’s house,” Julian offered. 

“I do have a group tomorrow night.”

“Their regular spot can be our home. Then you can go around asking other provisional government officials if they are willing to do the same. Tell them Elim Garak was the first to volunteer. I suspect this will be inducement enough for some folks to be generous. All I ask in return is if you could wait till tomorrow. I should be the one to tell Garak his home is being taken over once a week.”

“Thank you. You are very generous, Dr. Bashir,” Niskia said humbly. 

“It’s the least I can do.” 

Julian gave her the address and they exchanged some logistical details. She had not been gone five minutes when another knock came at the door. And so Julian’s day continued apace, with no fewer than 15 Cardassians coming into his office to ask extremely reasonable favors, most of which he was forced to turn down. Soil reclamators and medicine were the most common requests. One kind gentleman did give him two tickets for a concert in the park though, which was quite generous. Overall, it was a taxing day, to in each moment be confronted in ways he could be helpful, but with almost no resources to share. 

After the 15th Cardassian had left his office, Julian decided it was time to end this horrible day. He was exiting his office and locking up for the evening, when he saw Kelas Parmak treading towards him. Foot falls echoed through the grand hallway, with his gray hair, loosely braided, blowing gently behind him, though there was no wind. He was holding a large file box with both hands. 

“Dr. Parmak a pleasure as always. What can I do for you?” Julian asked as the man approached him. 

“Doctor Bashir. I have delivery to make to Elim,” said Parmak, gesturing to the box. “And I was hoping you might like to share the walk with me.” 

“Of course, but if you’d rather I would be happy to take your delivery.” While Julian generally liked Parmak, he also felt wary of him. It went beyond the nosiness he had displayed on their last walk, it was something more. Nonetheless, Julian endeavored to stay polite. 

“It’s not much out of the way from my own home. And I, like Elim, appreciate good conversation.” Parmak’s eyes held something Julian couldn’t place. It made him nervous, but there was nothing to do but accept. 

“Alright then. I have to say you caught me at the end of a very long day,” Julian replied with a sigh. 

“So is the life of service,” Kelas remarked. They were walking out of the building now into the late afternoon. It was that point of the day where it was beginning to cool the heat of the day lingered. Folks were walking home. It was rush hour, Julian supposed. 

“No, it was more than that today. I came into the office to find the most dismissive note from the Federation Aid Office. Very bureaucratic. Very unhelpful. They said six months till they will even decide if they can help. And after I read that, all day, folks came in with very reasonable requests which I could do nothing for. Which by the way, means I get to tell Garak tonight that we now have a weekly amputee support group hosted in his home.” Julian shook his head, unsure of why he was unloading this all on Parmak. He thought he ought to be doing more to conceal the stinginess of the Federation, but frankly he needed to complain. 

Kelas guffawed. 

“I’m sure Elim will understand,” Kelas replied with what Julian thought was a well contained smile. 

“Yes I rather hope he will. I’m just quite upset with the aid office. I was sent here to do one simple thing and it seems suddenly like an impossible task,” bemoaned Julian. 

As they climbed the hill to Garak’s ugly house, Julian could tell Kelas was considering his words. The evening heat was beginning to get to Julian. Even at this late an hour the heat came up in waves from the terra cotta landscape. 

“I know you are surprised by your government's ungenerous reply, but I am not. Do you think we did not ask for Federation assistance before you arrived? The answer was not we’ll let you know later. The answer was no. This may be an impossible task, but Elim has described to me several tasks which were impossible but which you succeeded at. What is one more?” Parmak’s tone was firm, almost harsh. 

“He exaggerates,” Dr. Bashir said dismissively. Momentarily he wondered what Garak said about him when he was not around. 

“Mmm I rather hope not,” Kelas replied, looking at Julian intensely. 

As they approached the house, it seemed Garak was not home. The lights were out, and he wasn’t in the garden. The 2 men climbed the stairs. Julian tried the door and found it locked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his golden key, unlocking the door. Suddenly something seemed to come over Kelas. 

“Julian, I think I actually have to go. Could you give this to Garak?” Parmak said, handing him the box of files. 

“Of course. It was nice talking to you, Parmak.”

“You may call me Kelas.”

Before Julian could reply, the man had left, leaving Julian more confused than ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi! The Plot!! She's back folks!!


	19. more than you can chew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian ponders his Federation problem

Having arrived home before Garak, Julian figured he ought to go about soaking the paste. He moved around the peachy colored kitchen, finding it to be incredibly well organized. Once the paste started soaking, Julian took a seat at the table and decided to read about Cardassian Physiology. 

Just as Julian had decided the paste had soaked long enough, Garak walked into the kitchen, encumbered with several bolts of fabric.

“This is certainly a change of events!” Garak exclaimed as he watched Julian whipping the paste. He set the fabric down and took a moment to take the scene in, his eyes shining. 

“I was hoping to ingratiate myself with you a bit this evening, so that what I am about to tell you can land as softly as possible,” Julian replied with a sheepish smile. 

“Well, my dear doctor if it’s my attention you were hoping for, you certainly have it now.” Garak sat down at the table and looked up at the Doctor expectantly as he dished out paste for both of them to eat 

“It’s just a bit hard to say, because I think there’s a chance you will be quite upset with me,” Bashir replied, biting his lower lip nervously. He took a seat across from Garak at the dinner table. 

“Julian, what could you have possibly done to make me upset with you?” Garak’s eyes looked genuinely concerned, it threw Julian entirely off balance. 

Briefly, Julian considered Devin in his San Francisco apartment. He considered telling Garak. He hadn’t meant to when the evening started, but maybe this was a good opening. After a beat, Julian let the idea go. 

“It was highly presumptuous of me, but I may have invited a large number of people over to your home,” Julian finally let out. He scratched the back of his neck and looked away from Garak, waiting to be admonished. Garak’s face betrayed surprise for only a split second, which Julian caught only out of the corner of his eye. 

“I must admit this is a surprise. How did this come to pass?” Garak asked. 

“Well this woman came by, and she told me about her support group for injured civilians. Well recently the building they had been meeting in collapsed. I was having a bit of a day already, so without a lot of forethought I may have told her that her regular mid-week group can use your living room. As a result, tomorrow, and the week after, and on and on, a group of amputees will be here.” Julian looked Garak in the eyes for a moment, waiting for Garak to respond. 

“Well I did say my home is your home. But I must confess I thought it would take more than a week and a half for you to be hosting your own parties.” Garak’s eyes glinted with amusement. 

“Really, Garak, I am sorry. You know how I can get sometimes… I… “

“No, Doctor. You mistake my meaning. Don’t apologize. I cannot think of a better use of Enabran Tain’s house.” Elim let out a soft chuckle. Nonetheless, Julian felt the urge to continue apologizing. 

“I’m relieved to hear you say so. If there’s someway I can make it up to you...”

“No. Stop. Julian, you did the right thing. There is nothing to be angry about or to make up for,” Garak reached out and squeezed Julian’s hand briefly. His palm was cool but surprisingly soft.

“Thank you, Garak.” Julian looked down at his untouched plate of paste, deciding he better get started on it. 

Garak began eating as well and for a moment the two sat in companionable silence. After a moment, Elim spoke up. 

“You said you had a bad day. Would you like to tell me more about it?” 

“You know funny enough I unloaded on Kelas the walk home, and I would rather not rehash it,” Julian said between spoonfuls of paste. “Suffice it so say that the Federation talks a good game about the value of all life, but it seems on their scales that a non-Federation life is considerably less valuable than a Federation one.” 

“Why Doctor, I think that’s the least generous thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Garak replied, his face a mixture of delight and concern. 

“It was a bad day, Garak. Let’s leave it at that,” said Julian, shaking his head. 

“Okay, my dear doctor.” Garak nodded in understanding, but his eyes betrayed some little worry to Julian. 

After they had both finished their paste, they retired to the couch to read and unwind. Julian found focusing on Cardassian medical literature helped him to momentarily leave the concerns of the day behind. Instead the details of Cardassian immune systems, and the soft breathing of his companion were enough to occupy his brain for a short while. 

But it only lasted so long. When his head hit the pillow that night, Julian found himself confused and frustrated. Why did the Federation send a liaison if they didn’t actually want to help? Although the aid office hadn’t sent a liaison… Section 31 had. Were parts of the Federation not in agreement about what was to be done about Cardassia? Did Section 31 have an agenda separate from that of other parts of the Federation bureaucracy? Who was Devin really, and had he been honest about why he should be here? He had never doubted that he was Section 31, but there wasn’t really any way to verify that. Section 31 didn't officially exist. 

Was he here because someone knew he would idealistically fight with his own government? It was a depressing thought, but it hit with a clarity that he’d been lacking since his arrival on Cardassia Prime. Regardless of who sent him and why, it was clear he was going to have to fight tooth and nail to get any sort of help out of the Federation. 

It was immediately clear who he needed to talk to. 

***

Julian awoke early the next morning, grabbed himself a block of paste for later, and left Garak a note before heading to his office. The walk was quiet. Cardassia was just waking up. The clouds turned a golden yellow for a moment, and whatever insect life made a gentle clicking noise. He took the walk quickly, taking only moments to appreciate this. 

When he got to his office, he took a deep breath, sat down and punched in a secure line to Deep Space Nine. 

Kira’s face lit up the screen, the maroon of her jacket popping out against the dark background of the station. Her hair was short again. She wore command nicely; she seemed confident. 

“Oh hi Julian. I got your letter, I’m sorry I haven’t replied yet.” Her voice sounded almost apologetic.  _ Had she been worried about me? _ Julian wondered. 

“Oh no, actually this wasn’t about that. I was calling for advice.”

“That’s a first,” Kira replied but her tone held no animosity. 

“Well I thought to myself who better knows how to get what they want out of the Federation.” Julian smiled nervously. 

“I’ll take that compliment. What do you want from them?” 

“I want them to give a shit about the lives of Cardassian children,” he replied, more acerbically than intended. 

“That may be an uphill battle,” Kira said with a frown.

“Yeah I’ve arrived at that conclusion already. But Nerys, they need it. There’s still hardly enough energy to make enough food, let alone medical supplies. Agriculture and construction are not starting fast enough. Meanwhile, I sent a list to the aid office, and they said they would process my request in the next six months. How many people will die pointlessly between now and then?” Julian threw up his hands. It took all his effort not to bury his face in them. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised. The Federation talks a good game, but they’re no more generous than Quark. They only ever helped Bajor thinking we would one day join the Federation.” Kira’s voice didn’t hold that sharp edge it once used to. 

“I’m totally screwed, huh?” Julian said with a laugh. 

“Well let me put it this way. Either you need to find ways they can help which are relatively low cost, or make it worse for them not to help. Or maybe get an admiral on your side. Even then.” She shrugged apologetically. 

“How did you ever get them to do what you wanted?” Julian felt a rush of awe for the position she’d been in when he joined DS9. It was something he didn’t appreciate often enough. 

“I was a thorn in their side, and even then I can’t say I won more than half my battles.” She looked momentarily sad. 

“Well thanks for taking this call on no notice.” 

“Of course Julian. Best of luck.”

“I’ll need it,” he replied, frowning as the screen went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really excited about the next couple chapters! Hope y'all are enjoying it. more revelations to come soon :)


	20. Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelas gives Garak a piece of his mind

That same afternoon, Garak sat in his office sorting through his thoughts. It had been a long morning of debate on obscure phrasing questions on the constitution. It was so draining, to have the same arguments over and over. Democracy was exhausting. Just as Garak was cleaning his office, and planning for his next day he heard a knock at the door. It was Kelas Parmak, who walked into the office, closing the door behind him. 

“This office is so out of the way Elim, I can’t believe you moved yourself here,” Kelas said, rolling his eyes. 

“Ah Kelas it is good to see you too,” Garak replied, ignoring Kelas’ judgemental tone. “What can I do for you?” Garak asked, smiling. 

“I have something I want to talk to you about of a personal nature regarding Dr. Bashir.” Parmak’s brow was furrowed, and he seemed to Garak ready to kill a childhood pet. Garak mentally prepared himself for a Kelas-knows-best talk. 

“Oh, yes?” Garak’s features were schooled to be neutral, with only a hit of amusement showing through. 

“Elim, you gave him a gold key?” Kelas’ eyes flashed silver, angry. He leaned forward toward Garak who remained lounging in his chair. 

“Yes. It is my house. That is my right,” Garak replied, maintaining eye contact and leaning forward. Elim had led many interrogations, and it seemed for once he would be on the receiving end of such attention. 

“He doesn't even know what that means!” Kelas exclaimed, his voice a little too loud for the setting. 

“All the same,” said Garak, maintaining a neutral air. 

“He will find out.” Kelas was pacing now, unable somehow to keep staring at Elim. It was very poor technique, Garak thought briefly. 

“I should hope so. That’s rather the point.” A smile flickered on Garak’s face. It gave him special pleasure to frustrate Kelas. 

“After all this time, him?” Parmak asked, almost quietly. 

“Yes.”

“He could be a federation spy,” the tone of Parmak’s voice turned grave. 

“He is not. He’s here of his own volition,” Garak insisted. That seemed to surprise Parmak. 

“How could you possibly know that?” Kelas asked indignantly. 

“The Federation has treated him miserably. They are not happy he is here.” Had anyone else said such a thing, Garak would have scoffed at them. But as the words fell out of his own month, he realized how fervently he believed them. 

“And, if you’re wrong?” Kelas asked, his tone demanding an answer. 

“It hardly matters. I'm too far gone.” 

“Oh, on that score we can agree,” said Parmak with a sigh. He was still pacing, which Garak found to be unbecoming. 

“Kelas, there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind on this. I would rather not argue with someone who’s been such a good friend this past year,” Garak said kindly. 

“What about the Union?”

“What about the Union?! Cardassia is changing. We have talked for the last year about how we want and need that change. Well the state can become more accepting of everything but my personal life? What is the point of defending such an institution? We must build the Cardassia we want to live in, Kelas.” Garak stood up as he spoke, his voice raising in volume. Leave it to the union to excite some irrepressible emotion. 

“You do not think he compromises you?” Kelas asked seriously, suddenly the one who’s tone was under control. 

“He improves me, he is the best of me. I have never met anyone as good as Dr. Bashir, and I do not think I ever shall.” For a moment, Garak wished he was lying. But unbidden the sentiment had poured out of him, and now it sat between him and Kelas, pooling and eddying. 

“Elim! I don’t need to remind you of your position these days!” Parmak exclaimed. It clearly threw him off to see so much emotion from Garak, an slight advantage but one that Garak decided he must press. 

“No, you don’t!” This time it was Garak’s eyes flashing with anger. “I appreciate that you do not understand my relationship with Dr. Bashir. That is fine - it is not yours to understand. You will stop insinuating that I will somehow fail in my duties, and you will drop this line of inquiry. It is for Julian and I alone. If you cannot abide by these terms, well you know where the door is.”

“I will not apologize for trying to save you from this folly.” Kelas bowed. “We will talk more later. I do not think I can stay here now on your terms.”

“Very well.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Elim,” Kelas said, closing the door behind him. 

“I really rather wish you would stop,” Garak replied to a now empty office. 

Garak sat back down and attempted to compose himself, and return to the work of finishing the day. But he found he could not. He had been unforgivably honest with Kelas, and was now uncomfortably vulnerable. The sentiments which he had expressed lingered in his mouth, leaving a foul taste. If Tain could only see him now, Garak thought briefly, before dismissing the thought entirely; Tain did not deserve input in his personal life, especially not from beyond the grave.

Had his admissions to Kelas really changed anything? The key was not a subtle gesture. Surely he knew that by giving Dr. Bashir such a thing he was opening himself up to this line of inquiry, from Kelas, or anyone else who was paying attention for that matter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader can have little a Garak POV, as a treat


	21. Unquiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian follows Kira's advice

After talking to Kira, Julian decided to send off several messages to the Federation. He felt hopeful. He could be as much a thorn in their side as possible. That was something he could do. 

First, Julian replied to Amanda at the Aid Office with a request for additional aid based on the needs that some of the civilians had described the day before. 6 months, he stated emphatically was not an appropriate timeline. It also seemed like a good time to write several Admirals, as Major Kira had suggested. He drafted up something which he felt would elicit some generous emotion before picking 3 Admirals which he thought might cave under such inducement. 

After sending the messages off, Julian realized the time, and that he would need to leave immediately to make it to his shift at the clinic on time. He locked up his office, and headed into the warming Cardassian morning. The walk felt good, and the subsequent day at the clinic passed quickly. 

***

When he arrived home he found Garak in the front garden. He was wearing a suit of orange with a high neckline and dark purple ribbing. He looked dignified, solid.

“Dinner outside?” Julian asked curiously, noting the table and chairs Garak had set up in the front yard. The table was already set with several bowls of paste.

“Yes Doctor, there's a group of child amputees in our home right now talking about their trauma. I didn’t think it was appropriate for us to dine within earshot. They’re here at your invitation if I remember correctly,” Garak replied pointedly. He motioned for the doctor to sit down, and they both did.

“Yes, I guess there are huh?” Julian had nearly forgotten. Elim rolled his eyes at this.

"If you're going to rent out the house, can you at least remember next time." Garak didn't really look as annoyed as he sounded, but it made the doctor feel guilty nonetheless. 

"Yes of course, Garak. That's infinitely reasonable," Julian replied, beginning to dig into his bowl of paste. 

“Niskia is wonderful by the way. Really a beautiful woman.” Garak's tone was probing, and verging on unsubtle. Julian hadn’t considered that, but he figured if Garak thought so she must be. 

“It struck me within minutes of meeting her how kind and selfless she seems," Julian replied, continuing to eat. "As to her beauty I hadn't considered it, but now that you mention it, I see what you mean."

“Admirable qualities,” intoned Garak, but he looked at Julian with uncomfortable intensity. 

Garak waited for Julian to respond but before he could do so the front door opened, and Niskia came out, followed by a small parade of Cardassian children, each missing at least a hand or foot or an arm or a leg. It might have been a sad sight had they were not so clearly children. They talked and laughed among themselves, and seemed generally quite merry. 

“Children what do we say to Mr. Garak and Dr. Bashir?” Niskia asked. 

“THANK YOU,” the children said in a sing-songy unison. 

“Now each of you find your buddy and run along home,” said Niskia kindly. The children dispersed almost immediately, their laughter and play echoing down the street in both directions. “Really Dr. Bashir, Mr. Garak, it was very generous of you to let us use your home.”

“It was my pleasure. After all, children are our future,” Garak replied. 

“Dr. Bashir you’ll be happy to hear that I found places to host the rest of my groups as well.”

“I am happy to have helped.” Julian smiled. 

“Of course. Well, goodnight gentleman.” Niskia did a little bow, and headed out into the evening light.

After she had gone down the road a bit, Garak turned back to the doctor. 

“A lovely woman.”

“Yes,” Julian replied. He was tired, and did not want to argue about it. 

***

Julian slept fitfully, and awoke early. It gave him enough time to go to the office in the morning before his shift at the clinic. He grabbed a block of paste and left a note for Garak before heading out. 

When he got to the office he found he had no messages. Well it had only been a day, accounting for subspace time it was understandable to not get a response. All the same, he picked a few more Admirals, and sent along the same message he had sent the day before. Dr. Bashir then headed to the clinic. Dr. Marka had found his shadowing and study to be excellent and was starting to let him see patients on his own, and only very occasionally providing advice. As a result the day passed quickly, with hardly any time to dwell on his Federation problem. 

All the same when the day came to an end, and he left the clinic, the doctor found himself with a choice. Turn right, and go back to the office, check his messages again, maybe send a few more. Or turn left, and go home for dinner. 

He turned right. 

Again there were no messages.

He sent more messages, and then walked home uphill in the dying heat. 

When he got home Garak looked at him with concern. 

“A long day doctor?”

“Yes, Garak but I would rather not talk about it.”

“As you wish.”

***

This pattern continued for through the end of the week. Julian could not fall asleep for stress, and woke up each morning wired, and anxious. So many people were depending on him, and he felt each day he was failing them. The more messages he sent, the louder the silence felt. There was hardly an Admiral in StarFleet he hadn’t contacted by the end of the week. 

He spent the weekend in a sleepy haze as Garak worked on some tailoring project. When Garak had informed him that Kelas and Telora wouldn’t be coming for dinner that weekend, he found himself grateful. One Cardassian was enough for the weekend.

The stress continued into the next week. The longer it went on the worse his sleep became, he began to need hypos at work. God he missed raktajino, Tarkalean tea, even Teran coffee would have sufficed. Dr. Marka furrowed her brow at him when she saw him hold the hypo to his neck, the relief instant if ephemeral. 

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Julian explained. 

“Yes. I understand,” and she did seem to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julian is having a hard time! :(
> 
> Next couple chapters are close so except more soon! :)


	22. Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets an idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted a new chapter a couple of days ago so be sure to read that first :)

After a week and a half of endless messages, and absolutely no replies from anyone in the Federation, Julian was beginning to occupy a permanent bad mood. Every morning and every night he went by the office before going to the clinic. A part of him was grateful the secure line to StarFleet isn’t portable. He’d be checking his PADD every 15 minutes. Though he was beginning to resent the office; he’s paced it so many times and sent so many messages. He worried that the com panel was broken and had the maintenance engineer for the building look it over. No luck. His messages were going out just fine. He could receive messages. There just weren’t any messages to receive. 

His sleep was particularly suffering. He would lay in bed thinking about the sick kids, and wake up six hours later in a sweat, still thinking of them. It was an unrestful sleep. During the working hours a twitchy anxiety floated on a well of exhaustion lingering underneath. The anxiety was enough to carry him through the day, though not pleasantly. By dinner time each night he felt fully exhausted, but when he laid down to sleep it never would come easy. Some nights it feels like he doesn’t sleep at all. 

Dr. Bashir so desperately wanted to keep his decaying mental state under wraps but was beginning to doubt the success of his efforts. He didn’t like to call attention to his failures, and his sense of failure was becoming overwhelming. _ I’m going to disappoint so many people. So many people are going to die because of me.  _ It’s an endless monologue like this. Round and round his head. The headache nearly unceasing. 

He realized he was becoming snippy with Garak, and withdrawn during their dinners. It wasn’t on purpose of course, but by the time he gets home he doesn’t have anything left in the tank to engage in witty repartee with his Cardassian friend. 

It was midweek and the evening was winding down, and they sat in the living room reading as they always did. 

“Councilor Metak’s assistant had the most interesting opinion of  _ The Never Ending Sacrifice  _ today. I wish you would have been there,” Garak said idly. He’s lounging on the sofa, but he seemed almost overly casual. 

What comes out of Julian’s mouth feels like an autonomic reflex, completely unchecked by any higher logic or reason. 

“Garak, I would rather take a phaser to the face than talk about the  _ Never Ending Sacrifice _ right now.” Julian’s voice carried more than an edge of annoyance. He didn’t mean to sound like that at all. Garak recoiled as if slapped, and Julian immediately felt ashamed. 

“I… Garak… I’m sorry… I” Julian struggled to put the words together, his brain now refusing to lend any assistance to his mouth. Garak’s blue eyes hyper focused on him. 

“My Dear Doctor, I must surmise something is wrong. You seem like you do not want to talk about it, but I must say I am beginning to worry about you,” Garak interjects before Julian is able to put together a second coherent sentence. 

“I’m sorry, Garak. I didn’t mean to speak to you so unkindly. The Federation Aid Office is simply proving to be a more worthy opponent than I had imagined. It’s becoming a source of frustration to me,” Dr. Bashir replied with a grimace. Saying it like this feels like something of an understatement. 

“Oh?” Garak cocks his head to the side, waiting for Julian to provide more details. 

“Well, I sent the Federation an aid request and they said it would be at least 6 months till they would process my request. The implication being the answer would be no. I know I’ve got to do something but I’m at a loss for what. I spoke to Kira, who said that I needed to be a thorn in their side. But all the way from Cardassia? I’m ignorable. I must have sent over a hundred messages in the past week, and with little success. Kelas implied this was my great impossible labor that I needed to provide Cardassia, and it is beginning to feel impossible.” Julian sighed, sinking into the couch. 

“Curious doctor, that the Federation sent you here but offers so little support.” Garak seemed to be implying something, but Julian in his sleep deprived state couldn’t quite decipher what. 

“Well, I guess sending me here was an empty gesture,” Bashir replied morosely, turning his head up to stare at the ceiling. It’s a lovely olive color. 

“Oh I wouldn’t go that far. I at least have quite enjoyed having someone to share this house with. Did Kira say anything else helpful?” Garak asked. 

“I have to make it worse for them to do nothing. But how do I do that?” The frustration was creeping into Julian’s voice. 

“What indeed. Let’s play a little game, Doctor. What motivates people?” Garak sat up a bit straighter before leaning towards him probingly. 

“I don’t know. Love I guess,” Julian replied. Garak rolled his eyes.

“Yes, but the Federation doesn’t have that for Cardassia,” replied Garak dismissively. “I doubt the Federation even has that for Bajor.” 

“Mmm you’re right on that account.” Julian shook his head. 

“Well doctor, what keeps you up at night?” Garak asked. 

“Shame,” replied Julian, without thinking. Garak blinked slowly, only an extra second needed to process the doctor’s statement. Julian wondered if Garak knew how poorly he’d been sleeping during his three weeks on Cardassia, or if the question was meant more generally. 

“Oh yes.” Garak’s mouth curled into a smile. “That could work, couldn’t it?”

“Shame? How do I shame the Federation into being helpful?” Julian pushed himself out the recesses of the couch, sitting up a little straighter and furrowing his brow. 

“When have you felt shame doctor? Any mistakes that have haunted you?” Blue eyes seemed to drill directly into his. 

Julian thought momentarily about Devin, before deciding to lean on an old standby.  _ Why fabricate when a half truth will do? _

“Well sometimes over a decade later I remember that I mistook a preganglionic fiber for a postganglionic nerve during Starfleet Medical finals. There was no reason for the mistake. And as a result, I didn’t get top of my class. With all my enhancements my best was still not the best.” As he said this, Julian tried to infuse this with the shame he had once felt. The best lies have a bit of truth to them, after all. 

“You failed to live up to your potential.” Julian’s eyes went wide at Garak’s statement, and he attempted to interject, but Garak waved him off, continuing “Well I mean of course I don’t think that my dear, but I suspect you might when you're trying to fall asleep at night.”

“Someone needs to beat them. To be more generous than them. To shame them,” the Doctor said, a smile growing as he realized the answer to his problem. 

“Yes Doctor, but who?”

“Oh that’s the easy part, Garak.” He was grinning at the simplicity of it. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Oh enlighten me then, Doctor,” asked Garak, tilting his head slightly. 

“It’s time for me to write to our old friend Grand Nagus Rom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah baby it's ROM time!!!


	23. Generosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's here folks!! Rom time!

_ Dr. Bashir -  _

_ Thank you so much for your letter. Being Grand Nagus has been a lot to learn for me, and I have prioritized reforms on Ferenginar. Reforms have not come easily, but the results are exciting! Even some of the most traditional Ferengi have begun to recognize that profit must be shared, not hoarded. The greatest reward of earning profit is the ability to share it with others. Our profit has no value if the health and well-being of all our citizens cannot be assured. And Ferengi women have shown themselves to be naturally adept at acquiring profit, expanding our economy with enthusiasm. We’ve lost so much by excluding them so long. Please, Doctor next time you are in the neighborhood I would be happy to give you a tour of our new Ferginar. I hope you like rain and muck! _

_ Nonetheless this self reflection period for Ferengi has turned us inward. Your letter is appreciated as it has forced this Nagus to consider what the Ferengi owe to the wider universe, and what policy will generate the best opportunities for long term profit. All Ferengi will profit from a rich and stable Cardassia. Cardassia used to be one of our greatest trading partners, and has historically helped bring much profit to Ferenginar. It was once part of the richness of the great material continuum and it can be again. It is only right that we help Cardassia in their time of need. Not only will we be helping the innocent who deserve our help, we will also be helping Cardassia to return to their previously healthy economy. The great thing about being Grand Nagus is I get to do both the right thing and the profitable thing so often! _

_ I have arranged for your requests to be sent to Cardassia. Some of the items you requested may be delayed a month or so due to manufacture, and shipping. However the first shipment will be on it’s way in the next few days.  _

_ Please keep me apprised of any developments, and if there are any issues with the shipments. If so I will handle them personally.  _

_ May your time in Cardassia continue to be profitable!!  _

_ Grand Nagus Rom _

Julian read and reread Rom’s letter in stunned silence. Even in his wildest dreams Julian had not anticipated such kindness. It was like the elephant standing on his chest wasn’t so heavy anymore. If Rom was good for his word, then Cardassia would see significant improvements even without Federation help.

But no matter, now was the time to press his advantage. After exchanging several messages with Jake Sisko, Julian drafted a letter which he sent to the Federation Aid Office as well as several Admirals. 

_ Greetings All,  _

_ I know I’ve been really going on about the situation here on Cardassia to some of you, and I just want to reach out with an exciting update on the situation here. _

_ After reaching out to the Grand Nagus of Ferenginar himself, I have happily secured for Cardassia much of the aid which I previously requested. The generous donation by the Ferengi Alliance will help save millions of lives from starvation and easily curable diseases. This will buy time needed time for suffering Cardassians, and give the Federation the six months needed to review my original official aid request. This unprecedented aid, by the Ferengi no less, will in all likelihood receive quite a bit of media attention. I am sending along the article that will go out on subspace a week from tomorrow. _

_ Best,  _

_ Dr. Julian Bashir _

_ Federation Liaison to Cardassia _

The attached article began:

**Ferengi Grand Nagus Provides Needed Aid to Starving Cardassia; Federation Aid Nowhere to be Seen**

By Jake Sisko 

_ Almost a year after the end of the Dominion War, the Cardassian Union continues to struggle with shortages in essential goods. Fortunately, in an exciting new partnership between Fereginar and Cardassia, the Grand Nagus is making sure these needs get met…  _

Having sent the message, Julian found himself feeling a self righteous glee. He locked up his office and went to find Garak. 

***

Garak was sitting in his office in the Capital annex, working through his correspondence when someone opened his door abruptly, not bothering to knock. Garak was getting ready to truly be annoyed when he looked up to see his Doctor. The man was radiating a sort of lightness. His brown eyes were soft and happy. There was something about him so good, Garak reflected. He stood up, taking in the enthusiasm that permeated Dr. Bashir’s whole being. 

“I would appreciate it if you knocked next time, my dear,” Garak said with a smile. 

“There wasn’t time, Garak! You had to be the first to know,” the doctor replied, beaming. His long legs carried him into the room quickly but he didn’t stop or sit down. 

“Oh?” asked Garak. Before he had time to say anything else the human was hugging him. It was a firm and excited hug. The doctors' long arms encircled Garak’s own, pinning them to his sides. It was a hug of unencumbered emotion.  _ He’s so warm, _ Garak thought briefly. It was a very human gesture. 

“Garak! It’s all going to be okay! Everyone is going to be okay,” Dr. Bashir said, releasing Garak from the hug and beginning to move about the room with enthusiasm. “Everything we asked for the Grand Nagus will send! There’s going to be food Garak, and medicine, and clean soil! And after what I sent the Federation… I think they will send double!” 

“That’s fantastic news, Doctor. You should be proud.” Garak couldn’t have stopped himself from smiling if he tried. 

Julian shook his head. 

“No, this is all Rom.”

Garak could only shake his head.  _ Can anyone truly be so obtuse _ , he wondered. 

“Let me finish up some work here, and then we will find a way to celebrate.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Julian replied, backing out of Garak’s office. “Come by my office when you’re ready!” 

As the doctor left, Garak allowed himself a moment to sit in awe. Julian was transformed. Where only days before he had been taciturn, and rude, he now emanated joy. It was like a momentary glimpse at the young man he had met before the war — hopeful, full of tenacity, prone to the occasional miracle. This was the Julian who’s kindness was like gravity to him; he couldn’t help but fall into it. 

He hoped desperately for a moment that this vibrant Julian would stick around for a while. _ Cardassia needs this Julian _ , Garak thought. _ I need this Julian _ . His palm itch with emptiness and longing. He thought of those thin arms encircling him. He thought of the doctor’s soft pink brown lips. 

With a sigh, he redirected his thoughts to duty, Cardassia, and the work. 

This aid was going to fundamentally change the lives of so many Cardassians. That was what truly mattered, he reminded himself. That was enough. 

_ *** _

About an hour later, they walked out of the Capitol building and into the street. The work day was winding down, and Cardassians were scurrying about, heading home in the heat of the late afternoon. 

Garak took a turn Julian was unfamiliar with, leading him several blocks down the street before taking a set of stairs down to a basement door. He pushed the door open, and Julian followed behind him. The room was dark, it took Julian’s eyes several moments to adjust. 

When they did he found he was in what essentially amounted to a dive bar. Cultural convergent evolution was funny like that. Hundreds of species on hundreds of worlds have invented and reinvented the bar as an institution. 

It was crowded with the after work scene. The patrons seemed to be from all walks of life. Old and young, some dressed nice, and others less so. The only unifying characteristic was they were all Cardassians. The bar was almost dingey, and seemed to be the least clean place Julian has seen on Cardassia. There was a happy din, loud but not overly. He loved it. 

“I wanted to recreate the feeling of celebrating at Quark’s for you,” Garak says, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the noise of the establishment. He smiled. Julian felt a warmth and an ease in himself he hasn’t felt in so long. 

“That’s generous of you Garak. I would lie and say I don’t miss Quark’s, but I’m not sure I would be convincing.”

“I wish you would try, Doctor,” Garak prompted. Julian schooled his features into something neutral a moment before relaxing a bit. 

“I don’t need to miss Quark’s with places like this do I?” He grinned as he said it. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. 

“Careful, Doctor. I almost believed that one.”

“Is that a problem, Garak?”

“No. Rather the opposite,” Garak replied, walking towards a corner table. 

Julian chuckled, sitting down. 

“Let me grab us some drinks,” Garak continued, remaining standing. “Is there anything you want?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

As Garak went to get drinks Julian had more time to take in his surroundings and collect his thoughts. It was nice to be in a bar again, nice to see the young professionals and the awkward first dates, the old men lost in nostalgic discussion. A few short minutes later Garak returned with two glasses of dark red colored kanar, it looked like pomegranate juice. Dr. Bashir took a sip, it was strong, with an earthy bitterness and a touch of fruitiness. 

“I rather like this vintage.”

“You sound surprised, Doctor,” Garak replied with a chuckle. 

“I must admit, I think this is the most I have enjoyed kanar,” Bashir admitted. 

Garak made a sort of tsking noise of admonishment but didn’t argue. 

***

One, then two, then three glasses of kanar disappeared. Garak had found the bar’s rather dilapidated Kotra board, and insisted that Julian play. The doctor lost quickly in the first match, but the rematch was much more evenly matched. 

“You know Garak, I really thought I was going to fail with the Federation Aid Office,” the doctor said, a half smile trailing along his lips. He moved his gul into what he thought was a very good position. Garak frowned. 

“You? Fail?” Garak asked, moving his legate to attack Julian’s glinn. 

“Yeah I mean, if it weren’t for you… I… I don’t know, Elim. I just don’t think aid would be on it’s way.” Julian placed his dal, boxing Garak in. 

“That’s very kind of you doctor,” Garak said. Looking at the board, Elim seemed to realize he was beat. He moved his agent, which took Julian’s number of turns to win from five to only one. 

“No, it’s not,” Julian replied, capturing Garak’s Capitol and ending the game. 

***

By the time they headed back out on the street to walk home, it was dark. The burnt orange landscape looked more blue than orange in the navy of night. It was nice to walk this time at night, it was cooler than the heat of the day. The warmth of the kanar in his veins made Julian feel a little invincible. Oh, Julian was most certainly drunk. But then it seemed by the way that Elim was walking, without his usual measure and control, that he was as well. 

They were approaching the house, taking the stairs up to the front door of Tain’s house. 

“Doctor, I want to thank you,” Garak said, opening the door, and stepping into the home.

Julian opened his mouth to protest, but Elim continued undiscouraged. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Doctor. You didn’t have to come to Cardassia.” 

_ Not true _ , Julian’s brain helpfully supplied. He followed Garak into the house. 

“You didn’t have to do what you’ve done for my people. Even if you left tomorrow, you have done us a great service. Cardassia is in your debt. I am in your debt.”

Julian didn’t know what to say to that, so he lied. 

“I was happy to volunteer.”

“Mmm, of course you were,” Garak replied, turning away and heading for his own bedroom. 

“Goodnight, Elim.”

“Goodnight, Doctor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking love Rom don’t @ me
> 
> Also.. Am I an American who misses going to bars so much, that I am just writing nostalgic fanfic about dive bars?? Yeah I guess I am. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Big thanks to my Beta who said "come on babe lets inject some pining here." It was correct!!


	24. Hero Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian has trouble accepting praise

The shaming, it turned out, worked like a trick. He got a reply two days later. Allowing for the quite significant subspace time for a message to reach Earth from Cardassia, Julian estimated that an aid package was put together and approved in less than six hours. And of course, not wanting to be outdone by the Ferengi, the Federation had agreed to send 1.5 times the requested amounts on most items. 

It boiled Julian’s blood to see the articles going out on Federation and Cardassian news services praising the joint Federation and Ferengi Aid effort. It had taken so little time for the Federation to truly find those resources. Yet when asked nicely and repeatedly so many people had made it seem impossible. The Federation it seemed would move mountains, but only to save face. 

As aid from Ferenginar and the Federation poured in, things began to change. Julian had never been so happy to eat a Federation ration bar in all his life. Things at the clinic began to improve almost immediately. With food flowing in from both the Federation and Ferenginar, there were suddenly enough energy reserves available to replicate the appropriate cures for many of the ailments plaguing the population. 

The girl with Cotoli fever came in for her first shot, and even the relatively even keel Dr. Marka seemed overjoyed. Julian felt for the first time in the month he had spent on Cardassia that he could practice medicine without his hands tied behind his back. 

This of course was the good part. 

The part Julian had not anticipated, nor appreciated, was his new celebrity status. He was used to being watched as he walked to and from work. He had been considered an alien by others many times as a StarFleet officer. It was not an unusual experience for him to stand out, to be looked at with curiosity or suspicion. That was the white noise of being a foreigner. No, this was something different. 

Garak had insisted it would be rude to turn down the interviews with the official news service, but he wished he had anyway. Maybe then he wouldn’t be receiving so much attention. Now, rather than curious stares, he could hardly walk out of the house without being thanked. 

The first time it happened, it hadn’t been so awkward. An old woman on the street had approached him, and told him that he was the reason her grandson lived. Julian humbly accepted the compliment, and went on with his day. He had felt warm and appreciated. He felt he had done something good for once. 

But as the compliments grew in number, he began to feel uncomfortable with them. It wasn’t lost on him that he could have come to Cardassia a year earlier, and had he done so, he could have saved thousands more lives.  _ Anyone else could have gotten this same result, _ he mused on more than one occasion. 

Garak had tried to insist on throwing a party for Julian, because “isn’t that what you humans do for each other when they achieve something?” Julian had had to say no more than once to convince Garak against it, and every time he came home a part of him worried there might be a surprise party waiting for him regardless. 

What Garak had not needed to persuade Julian to do was to attend an outdoor concert with him. It was only the group’s fifth performance since the war ended, and Julian had heard more than one of his coworkers at the clinic speak excitedly about it. It was rather a hot ticket. It was the evening time, the light and heat of the day fading into an atmosphere Julian found entirely pleasant. 

The concert was in an amphitheater formed in a natural valley. The gallery formed a semi-circle, with a stage below. The benches were the hue of adobe, with even geometric stonework. Julian and Garak found seats and waited for the performance to begin. 

“This book, Persuasion, that you’ve given me. Is it meant to be a romance?” Garak asked, striking up conversation as they waited. 

“Yes, among other things. A critique of the society at the time, for one.”

“Mmmm I found it horribly unromantic.”

“How can that be, Garak? Anne and Wentworth each remain in love for 8 years, neither with hope of returned affections.” Julian’s tone was incredulous. 

“Perhaps, but it is not as if Anne has really met anyone in that time to test her affections,” Garak challenged. 

“You cannot say the same of Wentworth.”

“No, he is merely pathetic,” Garak replied. Julian guffawed at that. 

“Pathetic?”

“He doesn’t even  _ write _ to her! A man so in love should at least  _ write _ . It’s the very least he could have done.” Garak’s eyes were full of insinuation, which Julian did his best to ignore. 

“Well there would be no book if he had! That’s the whole point, that even after all this time, there’s still hope for them!”

“And how can a match be considered so romantic when there is so little conversation between the two?” Elim asked, his neck ridges darkening slightly. 

“They spend much time together over the course of the novel. They know each other by character if perhaps not by conversation.”

“How un-Cardassian.” Garak’s tone was mocking, but it held no edge. 

“I cannot argue with that. It’s a human book,” Julian replied. 

Garak opened his mouth to say more, when the players began shuffling on to the stage. The players themselves were a mix of men and women, mostly young adults. They were dressed in simple cream white robes, wore neat hairstyles, and seemed very serious. 

They rolled onto the stage a number of percussive instruments. Julian spotted a large drum, the diameter of the head nearly the size of himself. There were five instruments which looked like large stone xylophones to Julian, arranged in descending size. The players of these too were arranged in descending size — the smallest by the smallest instrument, and the largest by the largest. Then came three musicians carrying large egg shaped jugs which had many curious divots. The nine musicians arranged themselves in a semicircle and began to play. 

The music that followed was not what Dr. Bashir had expected. Where he had expected loud and pounding, he found instead the soothing, and melodic. To watch their arms was art of itself. They moved rhythmically, both in and out of sync with one another. 

Julian expected them to take out mallets, but instead they used only their hands to play. Slow gliding, and soft tapping of fingers and palms was enough to make the instruments produce a wide variety of tones. Taking advantage of the hollow air space apparently available in the instruments, the players were able to create long drawn out notes, which held in the air long after the player struck a new one. The effect was almost hypnotizing. 

The time passed quickly, and before Julian knew it the concert was over. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed — maybe an hour, maybe two. He felt better somehow. He hadn’t even realized he had been tense. 

As Julian and Garak shuffled out of the amphitheatre, Kelas Parmak caught up to them. Garak seemed to bristle for a second, though Julian thought he must be mistaken, for he could figure no reason for such a reaction. 

“Elim! Julian! Did you enjoy the show?” Kelas asked, walking next to Julian, who found himself sandwiched between the two Cardassians. 

“Yes, I did. A fascinating view into your culture. I fear Garak neglected my education in Cardassian music completely,” Julian replied with a smile.

“A rare oversight,” said Kelas. “Elim usually has much better judgement.”

“Kelas, how can I be expected to convey our entire culture in so short a time? Perhaps in time Dr. Bashir will be a true expert,” Garak replied, seeming to soften. Julian wondered if he had missed something. 

“Perhaps in time,” Kelas agreed. “By the way, Doctor I would just like to take a moment to thank you for your hard work on behalf of all of Cardassia. Elim said there was no impossible task you were not matched for, and I see he was right.”

“You are too kind, Kelas,” Julian replied. 

“No,” Kelas responded. “I think not. No one has said that about me. Well this is my turn,” he said, pointing to the fork in the road. “I hope to see you both more soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are still enjoying this! 
> 
> I'm really excited for y'all to read the next 3 chapters, which I've had in the draft since at least May... 👀


	25. Beauty and Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the concert

When they got home from the concert, dinner was Federation ration bars. It was a welcome change from the paste. Julian would be fine if he never ate the paste again. 

“The concert was truly beautiful, but I suspect I missed some inherent propaganda about the role of the state.” The doctor’s tone was teasing, as he worked on his meatloaf flavored bar. 

“You think Cardassians cannot appreciate beauty alone? That everything must be for the state?” asked Garak. 

“Yes! Because the acknowledgement of beauty, and thus joy, as an ends onto itself… Well, that’s quite revolutionary isn’t it? That almost goes against the idea of the great glory of the Cardassian state.” Julian leaned in, fixing his eyes on Garak. Garak caught his eyes briefly. 

“Very good doctor.” Elim smiled, before returning to eating a fried chicken flavored ration bar, which he occasionally made a face at. 

“So, then what’s the propaganda that I missed?”

“You noticed no doubt that no one musician ever played alone, and that it was the combination of tones created by each that produced something which was beautiful to listen to,” Garak said. 

“It was about the power of working together.”

“Just so,” Garak agreed. 

“But they did not all always play,” said Julian, his tone questioning. 

“No, this was actually quite a controversial performance. Some say that the breaks by the performers mean to demonstrate that Cardassia can remain strong even after having lost so many lives in the war.”

“But not everyone thinks that. Some people might interpret it to mean that not everyone has to work towards the state all the time,” Julian replied, connecting the dots. 

“Very clever, Doctor. But it’s what humans call a slippery slope, don’t you think?” asked Garak. 

Julian shook his head. 

“No, Garak, I think Cardassia will only transform if for thirty percent of the day each of you thinks about something other than the union.”

“And what would you suggest thinking about instead, my dear doctor?” Garak’s eyes gleamed with something Julian couldn’t place. 

“Beauty and joy might be worth consideration, on their own merits.” 

Garak scoffed, but his eyes lingered on Julian for several moments before he turned his attention back to his ration bar. 

“These Federation rations are much better,” remarked Garak. “But I will not say they are good.”

After dinner, they settled into their evening routine reading on the couch. 

It had been a busy day at the clinic, and then the concert. Julian had been sleeping a bit better ever since he received Rom’s promise of aid, but he wasn’t sleeping well by any stretch of the imagination. He was tired, and nothing sounded better than his favorite spot on the couch, and some light reading about Cardassian Pharmacology. 

Almost immediately, he felt that tiredness where his limbs didn’t want to move. He was sunken into place. It was that magnetic tiredness where surfaces grab and hold on. Garak sat quietly a seat and a half down from him, reading something or other of his own. 

Julian’s eyes lingered on padd, the organic compounds swimming in front of his eyes. He fell asleep so quickly he hardly noticed his eyes had been drooping. 

He woke up slowly, the kind of waking that feels like a clearing fog. The world was soft and warm, and his pillow was cool on his cheek. He was on his side. There was a hand playing delicately with his hair. It felt nice. He sighed softly, and then yawned, burrowing down a little further into the pillow. His mind was slowly waking, but tiredness clung to his sense of reality. He was soft, and warm, and peaceful. 

He blinked his eyes open, glancing down at the pillow. 

Except it wasn’t a pillow, he realized with a start, it was Garak’s thigh. 

All at once he was not sleepy at all. He was very very awake, with his head on Garak’s thigh. And it must have also been Garak’s hand in his hair. The hand had stopped moving, and hovered softly and lightly in place. Perhaps Garak had sensed he had woken up. 

“Oh, I guess I fell asleep,” Bashir said dumbly, his cheeks flushing at the vulnerability of the position he found himself in. He turned his head up to look at Garak. The Cardassian’s face was tender, betraying a softness Julian had seen on only a countable number of occasions. 

“An astute observation, my dear Doctor,” Garak replied, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“I ought to get to bed, then” Julian said, sitting up slowly. His body resisted leaving the comfort of the position he had occupied just a moment before. 

“I’m sorry to intrude on your personal space like that Garak,” Julian continued.

“Oh, it happens to the best of us,” Garak replied, his eyes fixed on Bashir in a way that felt utterly consuming. 

“Er… well… sure,” Julian stammered, already in mid retreat. 

“Don’t let me keep you from rest,” Garak said softly. 

“Yeah I think I better find a real bed, huh?” Julian laughed nervously, en route to the stairs. 

“Goodnight, Julian.” Garak’s voice held a warmth that overwhelmed Julian. 

“Goodnight, Elim,” Julian replied before quickly turning and heading towards his room. 

***

Julian collapsed onto the hard Cardassian mattress and stared at the ceiling. The ghost of Elim’s cool and sure fingers lingered on his scalp. Where before he’d been exhausted, he now could feel his pulse was elevated. He blinked for a second, trying to make sense of what had just happened between them. 

His mind could not let go of the image of Elim’s bright blue eyes looking down at him. He wondered what Elim’s thighs would have felt like if for not the fabric of his pants between the doctor’s cheek and the councilor’s thigh. Would the scales be smooth like those on his hands, or rougher? Would he feel cool to the touch, or did the warm Cardassian climate make him exude more heat? Were the scales the same gray, or were there touches of blue coloring?

He wanted to go back, to live in that moment, the moments before he all but ran out of the room.  _ Why did I run? _ he wondered. He’d felt so peaceful. It hadn’t been awkward, not until Julian had made it awkward. 

It all usually came so easily with Garak. Not once in their entire friendship had Garak ever made him feel annoying or unwanted. Certainly they argued, but it was always good natured. The arguments were always more for sport and amusement than settling any score. 

He had been so worried about coming to Cardassia and staying with Garak. But living with Elim had been the easy part, the joyful part. Having dinner together every night, weekends in the garden, the arguments about literature and culture, the way that Garak would look at him when he said something particularly insightful… 

These thoughts rushed through him in quick succession. 

And then, all at once, it hit him like a ton of self-sealing stem bolts:

_ Oh.  _

He was in love with Elim Garak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	26. Just Checking In!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Garak, of course.

Even minutes after Julian had left, Elim felt the heat of the man’s head on his thigh, and on his fingertips. Elim could still smell Julian in the air around him. Playing with his hair had coated Garak in it somehow, and even after the human had left, the smell remained overwhelming, intoxicating. It was a human smell, but it was also a Julian smell. He knew it well enough, but not usually at such close proximity. 

He was so beautiful, completely at rest like that. All the tension of the day, gone. He had sighed softly into Garak when he collapsed. He seemed content. 

And his hair… His hair had been so soft and airy, so free. It was entirely unlike the well controlled and oiled styles preferred by most Cardassians. He had wanted for so long to reach out and see what it felt like. And when Julian had all but collapsed into him he had initially tried to resist the temptation. He never wanted to violate his human companion. But as he tried not to move, to let Julian rest, the urge had built within him. He had reached out to touch it just once, just to see what it felt like, but once he began, he found he couldn’t stop. 

And he had made Julian uncomfortable, Garak fretted. The man had all but run out of the room once he had woken up. All the same Garak could hardly find it in himself to regret it. The hair had felt so soft, and for a minute Julian had seemed perfectly at peace. Well of course until he realized where he was, and who was touching his hair, Garak reminded himself. 

It filled him with a sort of resignation. He had for years suspected that Julian didn’t feel the same way about him, but he’d been letting himself pretend that maybe their relationship could shift. That they could be something more.

When Julian had first arrived on Cardassia, Garak had felt such hope. Hope that it would finally happen. The nature of their relationship could change, was about to change. He’d felt so sure initially, but time had eroded that confidence. With each passing day, Garak became less sure. 

But it had been 6 weeks, and it had not changed. The small fire of hope in his belly was now mere embers. To watch the way Julian ran from his simple touch was like cold water dousing a fire. It was a reality check he knew he needed. _Best not to get too sentimental._ Julian had decided to come here, he had helped his people so much already; that must be enough. 

He’d been a fool to think they would be anything but what they were now — friends. And to think, he’d so adamantly insisted to Kelas… But no, in his heart of hearts he knew he’d been wrong. Their friendship would have to be enough. Julian was a good friend, and an honest man. More so than most, he had no agenda — that was a rarity. To be his friend was a privilege. 

To live with him, and spend every night together was a sort of haven. A temporary one, but a haven all the same. 

The doctor didn’t love him the way he loved the doctor, Garak reminded himself. He would have to be more careful. If he let himself, Elim could almost forget this truth. 

Feeling more awake than ever, Garak headed for his home office, thinking he might distract himself with some work. When he sat down at his desk however he found his con-panel blinking. A request from a StarFleet vessel for a video com line.

He opened it and the face of one Ezri Dax lit up the screen. 

“Oh hello, Ezri. Is there any way I can assist you this evening?” Garak said with his characteristic smile. It was an unexpected pleasure to hear from her. 

“Oh well you can maybe guess that I’m calling to ask about Julian.” Ezri seemed almost nervous, Garak noticed. “He wrote to me saying he is doing well, and well I had to hear it from the source.” Ezri’s smile was sheepish. He wrote _her_ , Garak thought briefly, vindictively. 

“Wouldn’t the source be Julian?” Garak asked, his tone remaining light and even. 

“Oh well but we aren’t always the best judge of our own wellbeing. And you know Julian, he always wants to hide it when he’s not feeling himself. And oh I hope you’re not offended I’ve called.” 

“I would never be offended to hear from you, Ezri Dax. Besides sometimes the life of an old flame is just too interesting to not pay attention to hmmm...” Garak replied, implication lacing his tone. 

“Oh come on now, Garak! This is a friendly inquiry! Julian and I didn’t work out but there’s no hard feelings there, and we're still friends. This is a purely platonic interest,” Ezri insisted. Garak tried to decide if she protested too much. 

“Mmm is that so? Well I am happy to report his letters are not exaggerating. Julian is doing quite well here. His contributions have been invaluable. He’s happily pushing along the Federation agenda, making all sorts of Cardassian friends wherever he goes.”

“Oh Garak! That’s so good to hear! Such a relief, honestly. When he sort of started spiralling after our breakup, well I knew it wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t blame myself. But all the same I felt very involved. And then all that business in the Gamma Quadrant and the Academy. And after all that to be strong armed into going to Cardassia… well I’m just so glad it worked out is all.” The words spilled from Ezri so fast that Garak had to slow them down in his own mind to process them. He paused a moment, as something resembling dread began to swirl in his stomach.

“Strong armed?” Garak asked, turning a pale shade of grey Ezri didn’t know was possible. She immediately realized her mistake. 

“Oh… well… yes. You didn’t know? Oh, of course you didn’t. I always get myself into trouble rambling like this. I’m so sorry Garak, but if Julian didn’t tell you, then I won’t say any more. You’ll have to ask him.

“Now Dax…” Garak tried to interrupt. Hoping dimly for any sort of clarifying information. 

“Oh um a gotta go, great to chat, glad to hear Julian is happy!” she said as quickly as she could and her video line went dark. 

Garak leaned back in his chair, trying to breathe deeply. He felt he might retch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say there would be angst…


	27. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the title says it all

Julian slept only six hours but unlike so many days of the past few weeks he awoke energetic. It was an anxious and jittery energy, a feeling of being jolted into the present moment. It felt like the air had shifted somehow. Regardless of if the emotions which had hit him the night before were reciprocal, it was clear to Julian that he was forever changed. The past took on a clarity that would have been uncomfortable if it weren’t somehow also a relief. 

He thought for a moment about eating dinner with Elim, about sitting next to Elim on the couch, about watching Elim garden. He found he couldn’t help but smile. 

Dr. Bashir reflected that he had absolutely no game plan for how to address this change in his reality. He had been deluding himself so long that the sudden knowledge of his own wishes was overwhelming, blocking out any reasonable ability to strategize. 

But it was all okay, he reasoned. They had been friends nearly a decade, what was a few days or weeks or even months in the grand scheme of things? No, there was absolutely no rush, Julian decided as he got out of bed and got dressed for the clinic. He mentally adjusted himself, considering how to appear as normal as possible to the ever observant Garak and headed down to grab a quick breakfast. Garak was gone and only a note that read:

_ See you tonight.  _

_ Garak  _

It was in a way a relief. After a shift in the clinic and some time to reflect, that nervous energy would no doubt be burned away at least slightly. 

***

The walk home from the clinic was hot as usual, but surprisingly so was the house. Usually Dr. Bashir found some relief from the heat when he entered, but instead today the house felt almost hotter than outside. 

As he walked into the kitchen, he found Garak was waiting for him. Garak was perched on a stool, like a bird of prey ready for it’s first meal of the day. Julian was about to ask about the heat when Garak spoke. 

“Julian, dear, you never would believe who called me up last night..”

“Oh yeah?” asked Julian. Something about the look on Garak’s face made him uneasy. 

“Ezri Dax.” Garak’s eyes were sharp.  _ It must just be my anxiety _ , Julian reflected. 

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I didn’t realize you two spoke often.”

“Oh, now and again. She wanted to know how you’re doing.”

“She could have asked me,” Dr. Bashir replied, feeling a little put out. Why was it that everyone seemed to be worried about him these days?

“Oh yes, I mentioned that as well. But well I’m glad she called because she mentioned something rather interesting. Something that I hadn’t heard before.” 

“Oh?” Julian asked, wondering what Garak was being so coy about. He undid the front of his uniform, and rolled up his sleeves. Clearly, he was not going to be cooling down anytime soon. 

“She said she was happy things had worked out even after you being strong-armed into coming to Cardassia.” Garak eyes fixed on him calmly. 

“She said that?” Julian heard his voice go a bit higher than he liked, and felt his pulse pick up significantly. Unbidden, sweat sprung from his armpits. 

“Why yes. I must say I was quite confused by the statement. I did ask her to elaborate, but well… she thought you should be the one to tell me.” 

“Tell you?” Julian replied dumbly. 

“Yes, Julian. Stop playing the fool. We both know it’s disingenuous” Garak snapped. “I’d like to know why the man I had a seven year friendship with had to be forced into taking an assignment that would put us again in proximity. Do you hate Cardassia, Doctor? Or just me in particular?” Garak’s eyes flashed. Julian was reminded for the first time in ages, that when he wanted to be, Garak could be dangerous. 

“I don’t hate you! How could you think I hate you?!” Julian could feel himself blabbering, becoming incoherent. This was a confrontation he had imagined was coming. And yet, faced with it, having dreaded it so long he found himself woefully unprepared. 

“You stopped writing to me, Julian. For months. Surely you weren’t THAT busy.” Garak’s anger was readily apparent.

Before, Julian had occasionally wondered if he’d been mad the whole time, and only just hiding it. At least now it was clear that had not been the case. This is what an angry Garak looked like. There was a small comfort in that one simple piece of certainty. 

“I didn’t know what to say,” Julian replied, trying to express the remorse he so genuinely felt. 

“You could have said anything. I just wanted to hear from you, instead of hungrily hoping for updates from Kira or Keiko! How mortifying,” Garak’s voice took on an edge of disgust. 

“I said I was sorry and I meant it!” He heard his voice raising in volume. After the words came out he realised he hadn’t actually said he was sorry. 

“Mmm… strong armed into coming here? You’re avoiding the question, Doctor.” Garak remained calm, fixing a pointed look at Julian. 

There was nothing for it but honesty, Julian decided. 

“Well yes. A man, err Devin. From Section 31. He showed up at my apartment after I was just wrapping up teaching for the semester. He told me I would be coming here, that I would be working both in Medicine and as a liaison officer to the Federation. And that our friendship would solidify 100 years of peace for the Alpha Quadrant. The assignment was not presented to me as optional. There was no opportunity for me to consider it, and then accept or reject the assignment. It was made clear to me that, if I refused I would be thrown out of Starfleet. I would lose my medical license.” It was embarrassing to recount it and Julian found himself flushing. He didn’t know if he should include the threats Section 31 made, but having begun he did not know how to stop. 

“And had you been given the opportunity to consider it, would you have come here voluntarily?” Garak asked. His face was hard, a mask Julian struggled to read. 

Julian opened his mouth to respond, but found he could not lie anymore. His thoughts wandered back to his conversations with the O’Briens before he left — the panic and concern he felt then might have been enough to keep him away. His pause was enough of an answer for Garak. 

“So what remains of our seven year friendship is simply a clever reconstruction by Section 31? Why doctor, I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were this good!” Garak clapped sarcastically, stood up from his seat, and walked towards Julian. 

“All those holosuite fantasies finally playing out… Well, what a shame! Our friendship can’t even solidify a few months of peace in this house, so it seems their plans won’t be coming to pass. I want you out of my house by tomorrow, and rest assured your assignment with Starfleet is over. You’ll be off the planet by the end of the week.” Garak was seething. Julian opened his mouth to protest, but Elim was a train going full speed. 

“I don’t care what the Cardassian government or the Federation has to say about it. Hopefully that makes up for the strong arming, Dr. Bashir. You can happily leave. You will not be missed!” 

“Elim!” They were in each other's face now, standing, breathing heavily. Rivulets of sweat rolled down Dr. Bashir’s neck. 

“Don’t. Call me. That.” Garak snarled, his eyes icy blue.

“I… I’m sorry… I,” the doctor stuttered, inadvertently taking a step away from Garak. 

“Oh, I don’t want your excuses, Dr. Bashir! I've been played! Congratulations, you make an excellent spy. You need not try to make me feel better about it. Oh and by the way, you’re already a hero here. You can leave happily! Mission accomplished. Take your smug Federation bullshit elsewhere.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Julian said again, frantically wiping the perspiration from his brow. 

“That you didn’t even want to see me? No I can see why you wouldn’t bring it up.” Garak scoffed, turning from Julian and stepping further away from him. 

“No, I mean before. Months ago, that’s why I didn’t write.”

“Because you didn’t know what to say?” Garak sounded disgusted. “You could have said anything, Doctor.”

_ I didn’t write to you because I was in love with you. Because I am in love with you _ , he thought. But he didn’t say that.

“For humans, losing touch with old friends is natural. It’s quite nearly the default expectation. So when you said things to me about wanting to see me, well humans will say those sorts of things, and they don’t really mean it nine times out of ten.” Julian began to pace, anxiously word vomiting, hoping something he said might placate Garak. 

“But you remain friends with Chief O’Brien, with Ezri Dax, with Major Kira don’t you?” Garak’s tone remained accusing. 

It was the kind of tone that made Julian open his mouth without thinking about what was about to come out of it. 

“Well for one, those relationships are based around honesty.” 

Julian’s eyes locked on Garak’s. He watched him recoil, blinking and shaking his head slightly as Elim processed the comment. Julian flushed — he hadn’t meant it to sound so cruel. He continued, hoping he might somehow talk himself out of this. 

“I thought maybe I was just some plaything for you in exile or maybe that you only felt a debt because I saved your life. Suddenly, you were gone and it was just words on the page. Your particular intonation was lost, and I could never quite tell what you meant. Couldn’t tell if you really thought of us as friends. And so I over-thought it, and I didn’t write.”

“I never meant for you to question my regard for you.” For the first time that night Garak seemed almost small. Julian wanted to curl up and die. But instead he kept talking, hoping something he said could help Garak to understand.

“No, no of course you didn’t. But I did anyway. Because of some defect in my own brain. I thought if I tested our friendship, to see if it lasted beyond our time on Deep Space 9. Well, there was a possibility it would fail. That you would be bored by me. If you stopped writing me because I didn’t reply, well that was infinitely better than if you stopped writing me because my replies were boring or you simply didn’t care about me that much. I couldn’t live with that possibility, Garak. You’re too important to me. Instead, by doing nothing, it all could remain frozen in time. Perfect as it was.” 

For the first time that night, Garak was quiet. He considered the Doctor’s words. 

“Saying it all aloud, I know how stupid these reasons must sound to you. They sound stupid to me. I was a fool. I’m sorry.” 

Garak must have seen something in his eyes, because he simply replied “Very well.”

“Very well, what?”

“You may stay.” He sounded like the anger had been totally let out of him. His tone instead was flat, and emotionless. Garak turned around and padded to his room not looking back. 

Julian was left in the kitchen, staring at his palms. They were wet with sweat. He thought he ought to cry, or scream, but he just felt tired. Maybe if he went to sleep he would wake up to find this had all been a bad dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like a good time to mention that this fic is about 3 connected journeys:  
> 1\. The physical Journey, the Journey of Body, The Journey of coming to Cardassia  
> 2\. The Journey of mind, of self reflection and understanding  
> 3\. The Journey Home
> 
> I hope you’ll stick with me for The Journey Home


	28. Retrench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fight, Garak makes a concession

Garak walked back to his room quietly, trying to maintain composure. He sat down at the edge of his bed, waiting and listening. Finally he heard the doctor’s footsteps up the stairs. He would not let that man hear his sorrow. That was a bridge too far. It was a trust unearned. 

He looked up and spotted a shirt he’d been making for Julian on his workbench. It was supposed to be a gift, a surprise. It was a maroon silk, with a wide Cardassian style neckline. It hadn’t been easy to get the fabric. It had cost him 3 nice bottles of kanar to a rather snippy older woman. At the time, that had seemed like a fair price to see Julian’s silly smile upon receiving a gift. His big brown eyes became so expressive when he was happy. 

He stood up, walking to the corner of the room. He picked the shirt up, feeling the airy lightness of the fabric in his hands. It was soft, just like the doctor’s hair. In a rush of anger, he ripped it apart, splitting the shirt down the front seam. He tossed it away from him, letting it fall in a jumble in the corner. 

Finally, he let himself sink to his knees and weep. 

_ This is the price of sentimentality, you fool _ .  _ This is what you deserve.  _

***

Julian hit the mattress hard. He was unconscious almost instantly. It was a helpless sleep, and unrestful. 

The next morning, he woke up aching. Julian didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to do anything. He felt exhausted. His brain adjusted to the morning, he realized he was dripping in sweat. He stretched, feeling the dampness of his sweat on the blanket. The house was sweltering. It was just as hot as it had been the night before, if not hotter. 

A quick sonic shower, courtesy of Federation power reserves, briefly improved the sweat situation. Once he put on his uniform though, he felt a fresh layer of perspiration coming on almost instantly. 

He headed downstairs. He found no breakfast at the table and no note from Garak. It was both a relief and a disappointment. With some rummaging, Julian found the stash of Federation ration bars, grabbing one that said egg sandwich. It didn’t taste much like eggs or a sandwich, but it was food. For the first time since his arrival he felt himself missing DS9. 

He imagined himself drinking red leaf tea with hot buttered scones and moba jam at the replimate. The ration bars were better than the paste, but goodness Julian found himself missing real food. But more than food, he missed his friends. 

He remembered Jadzia, hungover and nursing a raktajino. He remembered Ziyal, still young and optimistic. He would not see those friends ever again, he knew. 

He remembered Odo, creating a cup of himself so he could pretend to drink. He remembered Captain Sisko, on more than one occasion, interrupting his breakfast to call him to his office. He hoped he may see these friends again, but he did not expect to. 

He remembered Miles, eating corned beef and complaining about missing Keiko. He remembered Kira, heading to Odo’s office for their morning chats. He remembered Quark, trying to sell him pancakes with syrup of squill. He remembered Ezri who always seemed to be happy in the morning. He remembered Nurse Jabara, always slightly annoyed that he was clocking in 5 minutes late, but never mentioning it. These friends, he would see again, soon enough. And when he did see them, it would be as if no time had passed. 

Usually, he could remind himself of the hardships of that time, and he could look at those memories objectively. But today, he felt nostalgic and sad.

Finally, he let himself remember Garak coming by to ask if they still had lunch plans. His eyes ice blue, and his smile suggesting something but never mentioning it. Garak was always a special case. He realized now it was because of both the depth of his own feelings and the extent of his denial about them. Would Garak forgive him? Julian had no idea. The thought rattled around his brain, a nuget of despair in an otherwise empty cup. He finished his breakfast and headed to work. 

Upon leaving the house, he found that outside was cooler than in. He realized the summer was turning to fall. It wouldn’t be long until the rainy season.

It was almost a nice walk, an opportunity to get out of his own head for a moment — until it wasn’t. 

“Dr. Bashir! Dr. Bashir!” A small child, maybe 7 years old was running towards him enthusiastically, his mother desperately trying to catch him, looking mortified that her child would behave so. 

“Dr. Bashir! Thank you for the new food! Mom says you’re the reason we don’t have to eat paste anymore! I hated the paste!” The boy was enthusiastic.

“You’re very welcome,” Julian replied with a smile he hoped hid his tiredness. “I didn’t like the paste much myself.”

“You ate the paste?” The boy's tone conveyed extreme disbelief. “I thought the Federation was wealthy.”

The mother had caught up now, but she was out of breath. 

“I’m no different than you. I live here and we all needed to make sacrifices to save energy,” Julian replied simply. He crouched down to be at eye level with the boy. The boy had eager brown eyes. 

“Sacrifices for the Union.” The boy’s tone took on a sound of rote memorization. Dr. Bashir couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

“I prefer to think of it as sacrifices for the wellbeing of others.”

“Oh. I like that!” the boy said with a smile. 

“Thank you, doctor. I’m so sorry he bothered you,” the mother said, picking her son up, and heading back on her way. 

“It was no bother at all,” Julian said, surprised to find he meant it. 

***

Garak had gone to the office early. It was easier to not be in the same house. He’d woken up feeling suffocated. Like the air had been sucked out of the house. What was once a peaceful arrangement, now felt like a trap. 

So he had walked to the Capitol building, and tried to work. There were three competing proposals on the structure of the Cardassian military, each more miserable than the last. 

_ You were stupid to ever think he could love you _ , his mind supplied instead. 

A few minutes later during a particularly boring part about what to do about the rank of Gul,  _ you don’t deserve love. Let alone from him.  _

_ You’re an old bitter husk of a man, what do you have to offer?  _ He wasn’t reading anymore. 

_ I can’t go on like this _ , he realized. It would either destroy him, or he would destroy it. No, worse things had happened to Elim Garak than not receiving the attention of some Federation doctor. Hanging out with those Federation types for so many years had made him entirely too romantic. He’d let himself begin to think of marriage as about love rather than about duty. Elim Garak could do his duty. He’d always been able to do his duty. 

_ He’s going to leave anyway _ .  _ You said he could stay, but soon enough he will leave. He’s always had his eyes on shinier things than you… Why would now be different? Julian will find another planet to save, and someone young to kiss. Then you will be well and truly alone.  _

_ Enough _ , he finally decided. It was time to speak to Kelas. 

***

Garak paced across Kelas’ office, the other man staring at him in obvious confusion. Finally, Garak began to speak, though he did not look up at Kelas. Kelas sat at his desk, watching in confusion. 

"I've changed my mind. If there's a woman you think would make me a good wife, then I would be honored to meet her.” He could not look Kelas in the eyes. It was too mortifying. 

“I attempted to apologize to you. This is not because of our fight, I hope.” Kelas’ tone was probing but decidedly on the gentle side. Clearly he understood it was not the moment to push Elim Garak. 

“No no, this has nothing to do with you.” Elim shook his head, still pacing, still looking at his feet. 

“Well then may I ask what has changed?” Parmak’s eyes held some serious concern. Elim could see it from the corner of his eyes and it unnerved him. 

“You may not and I will not answer,” Garak replied curtly. He stopped pacing, looking up to meet Kelas’ questioning stare. He felt a flash of anger, and tried his best to contain it. 

“Dr. Bashir…” Kelas began. 

“Do not mention him. He is immaterial.” Garak worked hard to keep his voice steely and sure. 

“He has plans to leave Cardassia?” Dr. Parmak asked, his voice a horrible mixture of confusion and pity. The tone of it alone made Garak’s mouth taste sour. He again felt he could retch. 

“He’s not informed me of such, but it seems a matter of when, not if,” Garak replied, continuing to pace.

“I’m confused, Elim.”

“Do you not think me worthy of a partner?” Garak asked, his voice adopting a silky tone. It was fake but effective. 

Kelas looked Garak over, and finally stood up from his desk walking towards his friend. 

“No, of course not. It would be an honor to help you with this matter, Elim. I am filled with joy that you would trust me.” Garak watched Kelas’ eyes as he spoke; there was joy there, yes, but also something more complicated. 

“You have demonstrated good judgement, Kelas. It is time I trust it.” Garak put his hand on the upper arm of his friend. 

“Thank you.” Kelas bowed his head, a traditional Cardassian way to accept a compliment. 

“No. I’m sorry, Kelas. I do not like to admit I was wrong, but let me say simply that you were right.” Garak removed his hand, and began to pace again. The space between him and Kelas made it easier to breathe. 

“It brings me no pleasure to hear you say this. Nonetheless, I have several women worthy of your consideration,” said Kelas. 

“I may even consider running for political office as you have so often suggested.” Garak’s mouth quirked at the corners. He knew the mask didn’t reach his eyes, but Kelas would see what he wanted to see. 

“The Elim Garak in front of me seems to be an entirely different man!” Kelas exclaimed, smiling. 

“Given enough incentive, even an old man like me can learn Kelas.” Garak stopped pacing again, looking into his friend’s eyes. 

“Learn what, Garak?”

“Well let’s start with this: Federation promises are almost always too good to be true.” His tone almost managed to hide the edge of bitterness. Garak began to walk towards the door, turning to hear Kelas’ response. 

“But does that then necessarily mean they’re bad?” Kelas’ asked with questioning pragmatism. 

“Careful Kelas, you sound almost disloyal to the union.” Garak smiled, and opened the door, leaving the office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can feel the pace of my writing slowing down as I get into the angsty bits of this fic. Please be assured I'm doing my best, but it's also a bit challenging to write sadness right now. We will get to our happy ending folks! It's just going to take time. 
> 
> As always your kudos and comments are immensely appreciated!


	29. Counsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian discusses the position he's put himself in

It had been three days since the fight, and Julian had yet to see Garak. When he woke up Garak was already gone, and when he got home from the clinic Garak was already squirreled away in his home office. On the one hand he wanted to press him, to force the issue more. To insist to Elim how much this division hurt him, and how much he valued their friendship. To apologize over and over. To beg at his feet.  _ Best not think about his feet _ … He wished he could show Elim how he felt. 

But then he figured the hurt was intentional and meant to be felt. It was cruel and frustrating and Julian wanted to scream. 

Meanwhile, the house remained a sweltering temperature. It wasn’t clear to Julian if Garak had been intentionally cooling the house before or if he was intentionally heating it now. The weather had if anything shifted to be a bit cooler. Regardless of how it was achieved, it was clear that Garak wanted him to suffer. He would have been hard pressed to say he didn’t deserve the treatment, but it hurt nonetheless. 

And things at the clinic weren’t so easy either. Dr. Marka had informed him he was likely to be transferred to the central hospital soon. Outlying rural areas had seen unseasonable rain, which was bringing on more quickly a seasonal scale fungus known as  _ yal’ital _ . The fungus was benign under normal circumstances, but with lack of proper hygiene facilities, it had the potential to overgrow and become pathogenic. This had been a problem the previous rainy season as well. Now it was already happening in rural areas where rain was the hardest, and aid had been deprioritized. Cardassians it seemed were ill suited to being damp for long periods of time. Dr. Bashir was ready and willing to help, but Dr. Marka stressed he would only get in the way until the operation was more streamlined. 

So, unable to help with a developing public health crisis, and rather disinterested in spending another evening with the phantom idea of Garak but no Garak himself, he decided he was past due to check his messages. He hadn’t been in awhile, and any excuse to avoid being in that house was wanted. After all, anything at all was better than the tension and stress that hung over him there. Where before he loved to lounge on the couch reading, now just existing there made him apprehensive. He could only really focus alone in his room, confident he would not see Garak. But then of course he would miss any opportunities to see the man. So instead, Julian would sit on the couch feeling apprehensive for hours at a time, until he felt so exhausted that he retired to the peace of his room. 

So instead, today he would check his messages. 

He had many bureaucratic messages from StarFleet command, along with what appeared to be a censur. He deleted that one without opening it. 

Instead he found two messages of interest. The first was from Niskia, and almost a week old. 

_ Doctor Bashir,  _

_ Thank you so much for allowing the use of your home for our group. Thanks to the Federation Aid we’ve had a much easier time finding a new building. The resources you’ve made available to us are really changing life here. Please let me know if I can ever help you in any way.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Pelta Niskia  _

He wrote his reply quickly and easily. 

_ Niskia — _

_ So sorry for my delayed reply. I am overjoyed to hear you’ve found a space for your groups. Please reach out again if you have any troubles with your new space. I will be happy to help however I can. In the meantime, I seem to find myself with a bit more time. I wondered if you might have any recommendations about where I may additionally contribute to the reconstruction effort.  _

_ Best,  _

_ Julian Bashir  _

The second message of note was from Ezri Dax. It was nearly 3 days old.

_ Julian — _

_ I worry I may have caused some problems for you and I want to apologize. I may have implied to Garak that you didn’t want to come to Cardassia, and he seemed quite upset. I should have probably explained more to him, but I was worried I would make things even worse, so I panicked and left the conversation in its entirety. _

_ I’m writing to you now to apologize, and to insist that it was not done with malice. I was just running my mouth. I would never try to mess up things between you and Garak! I know he’s important to you. I really did mean for us to be friends. There is no animosity on my end Julian, but if there is on yours I will more than understand.  _

_ Take care,  _

_ Ezri _

He read the message twice. It was so like Ezri to think he might be angry with her. But he was only angry with himself. Had he communicated to Garak himself, all this could have easily been avoided. 

Looking down again at the message, he saw Ezri was in subspace range and decided to give her a call. 

Her face lit up the screen almost instantly. She was in her quarters, and in her red command uniform. It looked good on her. 

“Julian! Did you get my message? I am very genuinely sorry if I caused problems.” Ezri looked forlorn at the thought. 

“Yes, I did,” Julian said with a smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. The problems caused are entirely of my own making.”

“Oh no, Julian. I’m sorry.” Ezri frowned. 

“No honestly, Ezri I did this to myself. I wasn’t honest with him about the circumstances that brought me to Cardassia. That combined with my poor letter writing has painted a convincing picture of what’s at best an incredibly rude friend, and at worst someone who doesn’t care for him at all.”

“Oh, Julian. Yeah, that is not great.” She looked down briefly. 

“I really blew this one, Ezri.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, no, no. I always said I didn’t want you to feel like my therapist, and that hasn’t changed just because we broke up.” Julian hoped he was able to convey the sincerity of his feelings over subspace. 

“Well how about you tell me more about it, as a friend?” Ezri asked. 

“I can do that.” Julian smiled. “Okay you can probably guess that he confronted me in an incredibly dramatic fashion.”

“Oh yes, very Garak.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“Exactly. He is incapable of doing things in half measures. It was the end of the long day, and he turned the heat in the house so much that I am basically constantly sweating.” Julian found himself laughing at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Oh wow. You have to respect the commitment to the drama.”

“Oh yes, but I haven’t seen him since. He’s completely disappeared. It would be incredibly impressive, but instead I find I’m mostly sad and frustrated.” Julian frowned. 

“Alright backup, Julian. What did you say to him? How did you explain the situation?” Ezri knew how to cut through to the heart of it. 

“Oh gosh, essentially I just said it’s normal for humans to fall out of touch and that I didn’t know what his attempts to stay in touch were about, and so it was easier for me to like sort of let the friendship peacefully slink into the past.” Julian winced hearing himself say it. 

“And ever since you said that, he’s let exactly that happen,” Ezri replied knowingly, her signature mix of kind but no bullshit. 

“Yeah, I mean — fuck basically. Fuck!” It hit Julian like a load of bricks then, the weight of it. He had all but asked Garak to ignore him. 

“Those are all really shitty answers, Julian.”

“I know, but it didn’t seem like the right time to tell him.”

“That you’re in love with him?” Ezri’s smile was infuriating. It might have made Julian angry if he hadn’t been in love with her once. 

“Yeah. Shit, Ezri how long have you known?” Julian scratched the back of his neck, looking away. 

“Since Jadzia,” Dax replied matter-of-factly. 

“Fuck! Ezri I only figured it out myself like 4 days ago.” Now Julian was a little mad. 

Ezri giggled. 

“I’m sorry Julian, I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“No, I really think I earned it. Wait how come you dated me if you knew I was in love with Garak?” Julian asked, the cogs in his head spinning in accelerated fashion but finding nothing. 

“Julian, the heart can contain multitudes. Your feelings for Garak were never threatening to me. I dated you because I liked you and you liked me.” He noticed she didn’t say love. 

“Wow that’s the wisdom of being 300 years old isn’t it?” Julian felt a surge of joy, to know Dax, to be her friend across lifetimes. 

“Yes. It has its advantages.”

“So share some wisdom with me. How do I get out of this mess I created for myself?”

“I think you need to focus on repairing your friendship. Garak needs to know you care about him and value him. He won’t be interested in hearing that you’re in love with him right now. He’ll see it as an excuse rather than genuine. And you know Garak, he would never admit it, but he can be quite sensitive.”

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right… Dax has been married half a dozen times. Certainly you’ve overcome greater obstacles to love than this?” Julian asked, his tone sounding too hopeful even to him. 

Ezri scrunched her face a bit; Julian imagined she must be cataloguing through her many lives. 

“I guess if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that every time is different, every lover, every spouse. What worked in a disagreement between Leela and Nareeya might have caused serious difficulties between Torias and Nilani. I can’t tell you what Garak needs to forgive you. But I’m sure it’s something, and you should ask him.” 

“Incredibly wise, and completely unhelpful,” Julian replied with a smile. 

“Happy to help. I still feel a bit responsible. Not all the way! Don’t worry I know this is definitely mostly your fault.” Her spots seemed to dance as she spoke. 

Julian laughed. 

“Yes, it is. How are you by the way? We’ve spent this whole time talking about me,” Julian said apologetically. 

“Oh I’m great! Command is great, and I like being on a star ship. For the first time since being joined I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“It’s so great to hear that.” He didn’t expect to mean it as much as he did. Usually with an ex, Julian would find him hanging on to an edge of bitterness. But he couldn’t find himself wanting anything for Dax other than goodness. 

The two friends talked for almost two hours. They swapped stories and laughed and Julian felt a little bit light. 

He walked home in the dark, letting the cool night air make him feel alive. It really was starting to cool down. As he got towards the house, he felt a light rain begin, and he ducked into the house right as it shifted into a downpour. He frowned, realizing this was likely to accelerate things with the  _ yal’ital  _ fungus. 

When he opened the door, and the oppressive heat of the home nearly knocked him over. The lightness faded, and instead the pressure returned to his chest. He’d dug his own personal pit, and now bit by bit he was going to need to crawl out of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly wrote this chapter because I realized Ezri jumped in, blew things up and then bounced. But I want to be absolutely clear: in this house we drink love and respect Ezri Dax juice!! Plus we love a healthy Julian Ezri friendship dynamic!


	30. Rot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of various kinds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some gross medical stuff in this chapter, mostly in the part above the first ***. I’m pretty squeamish myself and I wrote it, so I think it’s pretty manageable. Definitely skip it if that’s not your thing, though you will miss the introduction of Dr. Toval. Generally open to changing the rating to M on this fic if folks think that’s appropriate (it might eventually get switched for other reasons anyway...)

The next day, Dr. Marka told him it was time for him to transfer to the central hospital. He’d thought it would be longer, but the weather was accelerating things. Additionally, a doctor lacking scales himself was something of an attribute. 

So Julian packed up his med kit and walked another several kilometers into the heart of the city, to the central hospital. The buildings were towering, pointing things, with wide bases, and curving walls. Well, the ones still standing anyway. 

The downtown was a hideous mix of tall buildings and empty construction pits. It might have looked normal, like a growing city, but the ratio was off. Too many pits, and not enough construction workers. All the same, there was a hustle and bustle, an urgency and a pacing to everyone around him. Cardassians walking through the city kicked up considerable dust. They all acted like they were mighty important. Perhaps they were, Julian chastised himself. 

The Hospital itself was a large beige pyramide, stretching 2 full city blocks. Julian marveled that it survived the war. Though the surrounding rubble suggested that was by luck alone. 

The inside was clean but busy. A nice front desk man indiciated to Julian the floor he would be working on, and pointed Julian to the staff access stairs. He only needed to walk up three flights. 

Stepping out of the stairwell the stench hit him. It was undeniably rotting flesh. It wasn’t a foreign smell, not after the war. Not after being holed up time after time. But this was stronger than Julian had ever smelled. He looked up to see rows and rows of full hospital beds. Cardassians of every age crowded in. It took everything in him not to stare. 

A Cardassian man in a lavender Cardassian scrubs approached him. He had short slicked back hair and warm brown eyes.

“Dr. Bashir! It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Dr. Toval. We’ll be working a similar shift schedule and I’ve been assigned to show you the ropes.” The man seemed brighter and cheerier than any Cardassian Julian had ever met. He liked him instantly. 

Dr. Toval directed Julian to change into his own set of scrubs, and then took him around to his first several patients. Dr. Toval would speak kindly and gently to the patient before beginning to clean the rot with shiny metal forceps. 

As the day went on, Dr. Bashir observed that Toval had a confusing brightness. Julian estimated Toval to be five years older than himself. He was a man in the middle of his life, a man who had seen tremendous hardship, and yet it seemed to choose to be unfailingly optimistic. It reminded Bashir of his younger self in a way. He had been so optimistic then, and it had been beaten out of him year after year. Yet this man, who no doubt had seen just as much if not more suffering, seemed to approach the world with a good natured cheer. 

The work stood in sharp contrast to that good nature. It was slow and laborious and smelled awfully. The only winning approach for scale rot was to remove it manually. Doctors and nurses alike were employed in this manner. Sitting with a single patient and a pair of forceps, it took no less than a half an hour to remove the rot, scale by scale. 

For patients with the more extensive rot, it might take three of them several hours. Once the rot had been physically removed, the treatment was simple. There was a quite effective lotion that both killed any lingering _ yal’ital _ , as well as nourishing new scale growth. 

They had plenty of the lotion, Dr. Toval assured Julian. There was no need to request more aid. The problem was simply that too many Cardassians were spending too much time wet. There was simply no amount of aid that would replace Cardassia’s hobbled infrastructure overnight. 

After watching several examples from Dr. Toval, and demonstrating his own proficiency Julian was given a list of patients he was assigned to. He was never more than 2 beds away from Dr. Toval. Clearly, they wanted to keep an eye on him, Julian reflected. Trust with Cardassians was always earned. 

Removing the rot was slow and grueling work. All the same there was something quite satisfying about it. Julian loved to watch himself make progress. To look at a horrible patch of rot on a man’s neck or a woman’s arm, and then to pick at it slowly and surely till it was gone. Having for so long wondered if he was actually helping people, it was nice to have visual proof. 

***

During his lunch break, Julian found he had an unexpected visitor. He sat in the medical staff dining area, eating a ration bar and enjoying a cup of tea. He was quite immersed reading up on traditional Cardassian skin remedies. So consumed was his attention that he didn’t notice someone had come to see him until they were standing in his light. He looked up, meeting the emerald green eyes of Niskia. She wore her hair in a neat bun, and was dressed simply in a brown dress. All the same, there was something quite pretty about her from this angle, Julian noted. 

“Hello, Dr. Bashir,” she said, smiling. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Julian asked, motioning for her to sit down across from him. 

“You expressed an interest in doing more,” replied Niskia. Her eyes scanned the doctor, as if to ascertain some secret about him. Finally, she sat down. 

“Yes! I have settled in a bit, and conversing with the Federation is a much less time consuming process now. Of course, now that I’m working on the  _ yal’ital  _ floor, that changes things slightly. Even still, I most certainly have a couple evenings a week where I feel I can be contributing in other ways.” Julian smiled nervously, aware that his character was being judged. 

“Hmmm… I must say you puzzle me exceedingly Dr. Bashir.”

“Why is that?” 

“Can I be frank with you?”

“Please.”

“The Federation offers many promises. Makes many assurances about their high and mighty ideals. And while their rhetoric is good, the feeling on Cardassia has historically been that that reality is not so sunny. Colonialists by any other name,” Niskia explained. 

“I think many governments make promises they often cannot follow up on,” Bashir offered. 

“Yes… But the thing is. Ever since you’ve been here, the sentiment has changed somewhat. A little food goes a long way, surely. But beyond that, meeting you, I felt for the first time that the Federation could be as good as it promises. That there might be some value in associating with it. I think many Cardassians are beginning to feel that way. But I can’t say I trust that feeling.”

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Julian replied, sipping his tea, and trying to take a moment to think. 

“Well how’s this Doctor, you want to do more? Many of the disabled children from my group are from the Korna Orphanage. There are many children there, and if you are so inclined, many if not all have never met a non-Cardassian. Before the war, adoption was almost unheard of. And it remains unpopular. We are hoping to change that. Your newfound popularity may be able to attract some attention to our cause.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“But Doctor, once you begin to visit, you must keep visiting the children.” Niskia’s eyes bored into the doctor. 

“Of course.” Julian met her unflinching gaze, trying to look earnest. 

“These children have been disappointed in so many ways. If you only visit on occasion but abandon them, you will be doing more harm than good. This cannot be an empty Federation promise. I ask this of you because you have not seemed to be a man of empty promises, but I want to be clear. If you think you’re leaving Cardassia soon, or you’ll be too busy to visit regularly, then I simply ask you don’t bother.” Her green eyes were serious, they fixed on him like emeralds. They had a sharpness much like Elim’s he noticed. He had not noticed before. 

“Yes, I understand.”

Niskia gave him some information on the orphanage and then headed out. Her soft form disappeared as quickly as it arrived. She had some of the same stealth Elim possessed. Julian wondered momentarily who Niskia had been before the war. 

The rest of Julian’s day at the hospital passed in a blur. When he found himself finally leaving for the day, he realized his shift had ended an hour before. 

***

Julian came home exhausted. He thought he must smell putrid, though he’d gone nose blind to it. And of course because he was exhausted, this was when Garak had finally decided to show his face. The man was sitting at the table enjoying a ration bar and humming to himself. 

He crinkled his nose as Julian entered but seemed otherwise unphased, as if he hadn’t been avoiding Julian for nearly half a week. 

“Kelas and Telora are coming over for dinner tomorrow,” he said with a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, Julian noted. 

“Oh, uh well if you want me out of the house, I’m sure I can pick up a shift at the hospital,” Dr. Bashir replied. He could hear the awkwardness in his voice, and it made him cringe. 

“Oh no, on the contrary Doctor. They’re bringing a guest. And since it’s well known that we’re  _ associates _ … well it would be quite rude if you weren’t here. It would be a real snub.” Garak wore a smile that was entirely false. 

“Oh, alright then. Who’s the guest?” Julian asked nervously. 

“Oh, Doctor. That will have to be a surprise.” Garak’s features looked almost snake-like. Not for the first time, Julian wondered what he was hiding. 

“Alright. Well um, while you’re here I really would like to apologize again. It’s clear to me now that I just should have just told you the circumstances which brought me to Cardassia from the beginning. Concealing that from a close friend was unnecessary and cruel.” Julian fidgetted as he spoke, but tried to hold eye contact with Garak. Garak, on the other hand, was entirely more interested in looking away. 

“Dr. Bashir, we really don’t need to discuss that any further.” Garak smiled, getting up from the table and heading back to his office. 

He watched Garak’s back as he slinked down the hallway.  _ But I want to! _ almost sprung to Julian’s lips, but Garak had already gone. A wave of frustration and sadness came over him. How was he supposed to apologize to someone unable or unwilling to listen? Surely, in time Garak would be ready to hear his apology,  _ right? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niskia really said no preformative charity work, and Dr. Bashir is like… but I just don’t want to go home after work and reckon with my relationship with Garak...


	31. Think of the Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian visits the orphanage

Julian woke up late. The house he realized was not as hot as it had been of late. Was Garak forgiving him, or was it merely a result of the changing seasons? Or perhaps he’d picked a temperature that would better suit their dinner guests. Usually a rest day was looked at with joy, but now rest meant actually contemplating his life as it existed. He had the whole day to burn. 

He walked downstairs, and found Garak nowhere in sight. He found himself a Federation ration bar described as waffles and sausage. It tastes like neither. He wondered dimly if he and Garak ought to try the Ferengi food supplements next time instead. 

He decided that with the whole day in front of him, he ought to take Niskia up on her offer and visit the orphanage. 

As he walked out of the house, Julian froze in the doorway. Elim was crouched in the garden, harvesting, probably for tonight’s dinner. The air was cool. The soil was not quite damp, but not so dry as it had been a week ago. 

Julian paused, watching Elim remove each tuber gently, placing them into a basket. He couldn’t help but marvel at how handsome he was.  _ How did it take me so long to notice? _

Garak’s hands reached into the soil gently, pulling. He was humming to himself. He looked happy and immersed. Julian could only see the very edge of Garak’s face, but what he did see was peaceful. It set off an aching feeling in his chest. Julian wanted nothing more than to crouch beside Garak, and to watch and to help and to argue. Instead, he found himself unable to look away, unable to move forward. 

Finally, it seemed Garak grew tired of being watched. 

“Can I help you with something, doctor?” Garak asked, turning his head to look at Bashir. The morning light made his hair look like it had a halo of light. There was a blankness about his eyes. 

“Er, no. Just thinking. I’m on my way out actually,” the doctor replied. He smiled but he could feel the strain in it, the way it did not reach his eyes. 

“Oh,” said Garak. There was a sadness to it, Julian thought.  _ Or maybe I’m just projecting _ . He headed down the stairs from the house, and along the front path to the street, passing Elim as he did. 

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Julian said, turning back to Garak. 

“Yes, of course.” Garak’s tone was even, but for a second something in his eyes savored of relief. 

***

The walk to the orphanage was not a short one. The Korna orphanage was in the Munda’ar sector of Cardassia City. In his head, Julian envisioned a map of the city, and the orphanage formed almost a perfect triangle with the hospital and Garak’s house. It was not such a convenient location, but not all the way across town either. The day was not too hot, and the walk was pleasant enough. The city was alive with chatting Cardassians and garden harvests and a scampering lively feeling. 

It did not distract from the gnawing in his chest. He could not shake the way Garak’s eyes looked at him so blankly. As if the fellow feeling between them had been erased. 

When he reached the orphanage, Julian was surprised by what he saw. He had imagined something large, something official. What he found resembled something much more like a house that had been cobbled into an orphanage. 

The house was completely unlike Garak’s. Where Garak’s house was dark, ominous almost, this house was squat, built from pale yellow bricks. The house looked patched up and repaired, with a total emphasis on functionality, and none for aesthetics. It was a wide rambling style, with a large covered patio out front. On the patio, two long tables held what Dr. Bashir estimated to be 50 some Cardassian children. The children were sitting somewhat patiently, chatting among themselves creating a happy din. 

As he approached, he found a woman he had never seen before serving the children. She appeared to be similar in age to Niskia, but taller and slimmer. Her eyes were dark brown and her brow was strong and serious. She wore her hair in a short bob like style, which Julian had never seen a Cardassian woman do. 

Her countenance changed entirely when she looked up and saw Dr. Bashir. Where before there was focus and concentration, there was now an easy smile. 

“Niskia said we could expect you soon, Dr. Bashir. I see she was not wrong,” the woman said walking out from under the patio and into the light of the day. 

“Niskia is never wrong!” a young Cardassian boy evidently within earshot declared. The woman chuckled. 

“You’re absolutely correct,” the woman said fondly to the boy. 

Julian walked towards the woman, and held out his hand for her to shake. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said awkwardly. 

“No, and I have you at somewhat of a disadvantage, as I know your name and you don’t know mine.” The woman’s smile took on a cunning edge. “My name is Or’rutha. Welcome to the Korna Orphanage.”

Just as he was about to open his mouth, the front door of the house opened. Out of the house came Niskia holding a large pitcher of water and followed by several older children, each carrying an additional pitcher. Niskia smiled too when she saw Dr. Bashir. 

“Dr. Bashir, welcome to our little project! You’re just in time for lunch,” Niskia called out to him. 

So that’s how Julian found himself sandwiched between two Cardassian orphans eating a ration bar (it turned out the Ferengi ones weren’t better). Now seated amongst the children he noticed a not inconsiderable number of them were half Bajoran. The kids that surrounded him almost immediately started asking questions. 

“What’s space travel like, Dr. Bashir?”

“Have you ever gotten kidnapped?”

“Why do you want to be on Cardassia when you could be in space?”

“Have you met any aliens?”

“Of course he’s met aliens, Kuro! He  **is** an alien.”

“I meant  **other** aliens.”

Julian could only chuckle at their cacophony of tiny voices. He felt an immediate fondness, a brief lifting of the weight that seemed to always sit on his chest. He sensed it would not be a hard promise to keep to Niskia that he would visit often. 

Finally, he spoke up. 

“Being a StarFleet officer is about going where you’re needed most. I’ve met lots of aliens and gone to many different planets. And that’s why I’m here now.”

“So you don’t actually want to be on Cardassia?” a young girl piped up. 

Julian wanted to groan but he contained himself. 

“I want to be where I can help most.”

“Is that your sacrifice to StarFleet?” another child asked. 

“No, not really. I wanted to join StarFleet. This was a life I chose, not a sacrifice,” Julian explained gently. 

The children were quiet for maybe five seconds before one of the older boys spoke up. 

“When they beam you somewhere is it like you die and are remade?”

***

Later in the day, having answered the children's questions for several hours, Julian sat with Niskia and Or’rutha, enjoying tea on the patio. They watched the children play in the yard. Their smalls forms running and jumping and shouting with joy. Eventually, Julian spoke up. He never did like silence. 

“When we first met, you said you didn’t have a house to give. I hadn’t imagined it was because you had already given a house,” Julian said, his eyes trained on Niskia. 

“Who could guess that two people would endeavor to do such a thing alone?” Niskia laughed. 

“You’ve certainly made a great sacrifice for the Union,” Julian said. 

Or’rutha bristled at that, and Niskia reached out gently to touch her arm. It was clearly meant to be a calming touch. There was an easy intimacy between them in the way they were willing to occupy each other's space. Their silence communication made Julian’s heart lurch with want. He could hardly remember feeling so acutely a bachelor. 

“I hope I will not offend you, Dr. Bashir, when I say that nothing we have done here is for the state. Everything is for the children,” Or’rutha replied. 

“There is no need to apologize. I did not mean to cause offense. I have merely observed many Cardassians seem to derive great pleasure from serving the state.”

This time it was Niskia’s turn to speak. 

“We tried that once, Doctor. We found the sacrifice often too great, and the outcome often uncertain. When the war ended we decided there had to be something else to serve, something more worthy.” 

“I think I understand,” Julian replied. 

“If you live here long enough, you most certainly will,” Or’rutha replied. 

***

Finally the day was winding down, and Julian realized he would have to leave to make it to Garak’s in time for dinner. 

As he walked home his thoughts wandered. 

He found himself wondering if he could stay, and help Cardassia recover. If Garak didn’t want him here, was there still a place for him on Cardassia?  _ Is not having anywhere to go a good enough reason to stay? _ He told Garak he wanted to stay, but was that just another line?

He wondered who was really deciding whether he would stay or leave. Was he really in control, or would Devin tell him he had to stay, or had to leave. Was Section 31 even still invested in his presence here? Had he achieved his mission? Was he free to stay or go as he pleased? Or even still, was he being watched? He had promised Niskia he would keep coming to visit, but could he really promise that? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look... I added a total number of chapters... It might change, but I have a mostly complete set of things that I want to happen. 
> 
> Anyway, as always thank you for reading. Your comments and kudos are deeply appreciated. <3


	32. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a much anticipated dinner party

Julian opened the door to find the small party already in full swing. A bottle of kanar was half finished on the counter, and Kelas Parmak seemed to be mid soliloquy on the Cardassian democratic experiment. Four Cardassians stood in a circle in the kitchen. Garak, Kelas, Telora and another woman were sipping kanar. The woman looked to be about Telora’s age, perhaps even younger. 

“Ahh,” said Garak. “Our second Doctor has finally dained to join us. Perhaps he can offer a Federation perspective on the democratic process.”

Julian walked toward them, joining the circle of four and making it five. 

“Oh come now, Garak. All you want to do is scoff at my Federation optimism and I can’t say I’m in the mood,” Julian replied good-naturedly. It seemed Garak was going to pretend nothing was amiss between them. Well, Julian figured he could do the same. 

Kelas choked down a small laugh, and Garak shot him a mostly friendly glare. 

“Besides you haven’t introduced me to our guest,” Julian continued. 

“Ah yes, this is Lutia. A coworker of Telora’s,” Kelas replied. 

“It’s so great to meet you, Dr. Bashir,” she said smiling. Her voice was high, lyrical and sing-songy. “I’ve read so much about you in the press, I must say I’m very curious to know you more.”

“Have you known Garak long?” Julian asked. 

“Only about half an hour,” she replied with a small laugh. 

“Well, it’s great to meet you as well. Do you have any opinions on the Cardassian democratic transition?” Dr. Bashir asked. 

“Oh not really. I’m an engineer. I fix pipes and filters. Certainly things needed to change after the war, but I really couldn’t say if this is the best way. Kelas insists it is and I’ve never known him to be wrong.” Lutia smiled. 

“A woman of excellent tastes,” Kelas replied. Telora rubbed his arm playfully. Julian searched Garak’s expression, but it remained unchanged. 

“Lutia, were your parents engineers as well?” Garak asked. Julian had never known Garak to willingly bring up parents. It was one of the many things he liked about him. 

“Oh yes. I completely uncreatively joined the family business. Though if we’re being honest my mother was much more skilled at it.”

“I completely understand,” said Elim. 

“Your parents were also tailors?” Lutia asked. Julian caught Telora suppressing a chuckle and exchanging glances with Kelas. 

“In a manner of speaking,” replied Garak. Parmak rolled his eyes. 

“How is dinner coming along?” asked Kelas. 

“The murupa root needs about ten more minutes. Dr. Bashir, can I get you a drink? Does anyone else need a refill?” Garak asked, heading toward the half finished bottle of kanar. 

“I’ll have a drink,” replied Julian. 

“I could use a refill,” said Telora, handing Garak her empty glass. 

“I just love murupa root,” said Lutia. Her eyes looked far off. “It reminds me of the dinners my grandmother used to make me growing up.”

Garak returned to the circle with 3 glass of kanar held somewhat precariously. He passed the first to Julian and the second to Telora. With that, Julian tried to fade into the background of the conversation. It wasn’t hard. Lutia related a story from engineering college, and then Garak told a story about a troublesome Bolian customer he had on Deep Space Nine. Julian was pretty sure that it was mostly fabricated. 

Before he knew it, they were eating dinner. Five was rather crowded for the size of table. Kelas insisted that Garak sit between him and Lutia. Telora was across from Kelas, and Julian sat next to her. 

Dinner was quite good. Apparently, Garak had learned some new tricks in the kitchen as the murupa root seemed to have been seasoned to create a more umami flavor. Telora complimented his cooking, and Garak seemed to almost preen under the attention. Kelas asked her how it compared to his cooking, which led to a short, but spirited argument. Then, Lutia and Telora told a rather long but ultimately humorous story about their post-war intern onboarding process. This led to Kelas telling a story about his new assistant, who was apparently not working out. 

The kanar continued to disappear. It seemed in no time at all dinner was almost done and they had almost finished a second bottle. Julian had tried to pace his drinking. He’d already had a long day, and he didn’t want to say something stupid in front of the guests. The other guests seemed to have no such qualms. 

As the conversation meandered, Julian found himself wondering why Garak had been so insistent he be there to meet Lutia. She was perfectly nice, but he felt he must be missing something. Just as he was thinking this, Lutia spoke up to ask a question. 

“Tell me, Garak, was it hard running a clothier with such diverse clientele?” asked Lutia. 

“I appreciated the challenge, certainly. Though, I can’t say if I always live up to the task,” Garak replied. 

“Everything you made for me was always lovely,” Julian offered. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Garak. He looked towards Julian briefly, though not long enough for Dr. Bashir to decipher the meaning.

“It must be much easier now that you’re back on Cardassia. More homogenous tastes. Though perhaps you don’t find time to make clothes anymore,” Lutia continued. 

“Yes, the business of building a government is time consuming. Though I do try to make clothing occasionally. You cannot maintain a skill you do not practice,” Garak said with a small smile. 

“I’m so glad Dr. Parmak introduced us,” she said, smiling. Lutia reached out, putting a hand on Garak’s shoulder. “It’s so rare to meet such a multi-talented man.”

_ Oh.  _

In an instant Julian realized, this was Parmak setting Garak up. His stomach did a barrel roll.  _ Garak is allowed to be happy. It doesn’t have to be with you, you conceited fuck _ . 

Lutia moved on to talking about the joys of serving the state by working at a water treatment plant. Garak pleasantly engaged her, and Kelas couldn’t keep his eyes off the two of them. 

The longer Julian sat there, the more he couldn’t be so near to them. Couldn’t watch it. Couldn’t let his brain keep calculating the odds that Garak would marry her. ( _ 29.78 percent, which wasn’t that high but it was high enough! _ )

“Can I clear anyone’s dishes?” Julian asked, his voice sounding a little too loud to himself. Any excuse to leave the table was required. A little space would help. A little air was all that was needed. 

“Thoughtful as always, Doctor,” Garak replied. His eyes conveyed only cold distance. 

Julian took the small pile of dishes he’d been given to the sink. Unfortunately, the dinner table was in view of the sink. If anything he now had a better view. 

Washing the dishes, he found that watching Garak and Lutia from a distance did not help. Kelas caught his stare. Julian blushed, and looked away, but was too late. Kelas had already decided to come over. He stood next to Julian passing him dishes to wash. 

“How are you this evening, Julian?” There was a silkiness in Parmak's voice. It was predatory even. 

“Oh just dandy, Kelas.”

“Funny. You seem to me to be acutely suffering.” A smirk played on Kelas’ lips. 

“Garak did not tell me who would be the guest, or why. Merely that there would be a guest.” Julian said. He could hear the frustration in his own voice. He was confident Kelas could hear it too. 

“Oh how very curious.” Kelas’ eyes bored into the doctor. “And why do you think that is, Julian?” Kelas still looked too amused for his own good. 

“Kelas, there is only one Cardassian who’s enigmatic questions I will tolerate and frankly it’s not you. I’m going to take a walk. You can tell Garak that I got a message that I was needed at the hospital, or you can tell him I couldn’t stand to be here. Whatever you like. Whatever suits your purposes.” Julian gestures vaguely at Garak and the woman. She was still very animated in her discussion of water treatment from what Julian could tell. 

Dr. Parmak nodded. He looked at Julian in a way which made him feel like the most pathetic creature Kelas had ever seen. Perhaps he was. 

“I will tell Elim that the ongoing public health emergency has called you back to work. And that you remain a dutiful servant to Cardassia.” Kelas no longer looked amused. 

“You will?” 

“Yes, Julian. You saved my home. This small favor, I can do you,” Kelas replied seriously. 

Julian could only nod, before he turned and ducked out the front door, grabbing his medkit on the way out. 

Outside he found it was cool, cloudy, sunsetty. Bright orange clouds illuminated the lavender sky. He walked to the street and decided to walk north, uphill and away from the city center. The kanar he’d had dulled the chill somewhat, but he was nothing close to drunk. 

The air felt good. The movement. The exercise on his limbs. It felt good to not watch Elim smile at her. To not watch his beloved court another. 

He came upon a small footbridge. It was made of stone with a rounded arching shaping. The bridge was over a stream, though it seemed like it was likely dry much of the year. Now, there was a mere trickle of dusty water. He looked down at it briefly, before crossing. On the other end of the bridge he found a small park. The lot was smaller than Garak’s house. It was not 10 meters across. There was no one there, perhaps because it looked about to rain. 

The park was paved with gray stone and lined with high dark hedges. It was like a room of grey and green. It was the most green Julian had seen at once on Cardassia. There were benches lining the park, and in the center a small statue of a Cardassian man that Julian did not recognize. 

Finally surrounded by green, he found he was able to think clearly. He began to pace, letting his long legs carry him across the green room. 

_ You missed your chance. One brilliant precious thing afforded to you, and you, you could not hold it gently enough. Had you any sense you would have come straight here after things ended with Ezri. You would have stood at his doorstep, and counted the ways you love him.  _

_ Instead you flew to every other corner of the universe and stopped responding to his letters. Surely you must be the stupidest man alive, even with the augmented intelligence.  _

_ Even if you had run to Cardassia, would it have been enough? Was it always a game to him? A gentle joke. A passing amusement. I’ll just flirt with the young StarFleet doctor. What could come of it?  _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Certainly, Garak would not have thought it was my heart that was being risked. That my heart could belong to him so entirely without either of us even realizing it. 

_ And now, having decided our closeness should end, he’s decided to throw my heart back in my face. Perhaps he does know. Surely, this is proof he’s known all along, certainly before I knew. It was an entertainment for him before, and it continues to be now.  _

_ Perhaps before he humored me, but now he is tired of such games. Who could blame him? He deserves a family, deserves to be happy, even if it’s not with me. He no longer has any reason to protect your feelings. Friendship kept him from blunt rejection before, but now? What are we now? _

Julian began to slow his pacing. He sat down on his haunches, and put his head in his hands. He collapsed into himself, the cold stone below him all that seemed to connect him to reality. Tears rolled down his cheeks like that pitiful little creek. He did not try to stop them. 

He did not know how long had passed. Only that it was suddenly dark. The sky looked like rain. 

_ Foolish foolish foolish. What will you do now, Julian Subatoi Bashir? Is there anything here for you? But then is there anything, anywhere for you?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always takes Julian a moment to figure things out. Poor guy.


	33. Harsh Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Garak’s little dinner party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated a couple days ago, so be sure to read that chapter first if you haven't already!!

The morning after the party, Garak awoke stiff and tired. He had another day off, though it seemed Julian did not; his Medkit was not where he usually placed it by the front door. 

As Garak made himself tea and rifled through their stock of ration bars, he admitted to himself that Lutia was not the woman for him. She had been nice enough surely, but she lacked a certain substance. She was a technical mind but was disinterested in literature. He’d basically given up on the evening entirely when she’d mentioned she had no political opinions. What was Garak supposed to do with someone like that? At no point had he even felt the slightest urge to argue with her. No, she was not the one. Kelas would need to be given feedback. 

By the afternoon, as his fingers worked away at a recent commission from Telora, Garak thought, perhaps the problem was him. _How could anyone compare to Julian?_ _It was an unfair task._ But for all his efforts, he couldn’t quite let go of the idea of really loving his spouse. He was really, tragically quite the romantic. 

And with Julian, there had been time for feelings to build, too much time certainly. They had been friends for almost a decade. There was a certain intimacy in that, even if it wasn’t the intimacy Elim desired. 

He hadn’t meant to feel so strongly for the human. Certainly initially, Julian had just been a passing amusement. But when the doctor looked down at him in his hospital bed, 7 years ago, all softness, with those big brown eyes. Well, if Garak hadn’t already been in love, he was a goner then. At the time, he figured he was dying, what better time to fall in love? With the wire quickly killing him, it wasn’t like he’d have a weakness to worry about long-term. Well, in that regard he’d been wrong. 

He was forced to wonder now if they could still be called friends. The idea sent a pang of sadness through him. He refocused his mind on the stitches of Telora’s dress. 

By the evening, Garak wondered where Julian was. His shift should have been over by now. Was he working still? That would be an annoyingly devoted thing to do, but very Julian. Or perhaps he was with Niskia again. Of course it was well within Julian’s rights to meet a nice Cardassian, but why did it have to be someone so lovely and selfless? She was a perfect match for him in that regard. Garak thought briefly about killing her. After consideration he was forced to admit to himself that the loss for the state would be too great. Well at the very least, he should do some research on her. In the service of a friend, of course. If Niskia was not who she appeared to be, well then it was his obligation to let Julian know. 

He looked at the time again. Where was Julian? Garak felt a coil of disgust at himself.  _ He’s not yours, Elim. You must let this useless attachment go.  _

***

After leaving the party, Julian had come home late, and woken up early. The 5 or so hours of sleep he got weren’t particularly sufficient, but he could hardly expect to feel particularly sunny anyway. 

On so little sleep, it had felt like quiet a long day at the hospital, and Julian had worked several hours over his regular shift. He was ready to go home, to slink past Garak without exchanging a word and collapse into bed. He had just changed out of his scrubs and back into his uniform when Dr. Toval came up behind him and patted him jovially on the back. 

“Dr. Bashir! Some of us are going for after shift drinks! It's traditional if you pull a rest day shift. You should join us!” Dr. Toval was cheery. He didn’t sound like he’d just had a long day picking at Cardassian skin infections. 

Julian wasn’t one to turn down drinks. Plus, it would be nice to have work friends. Any excuse to delay seeing Garak. What if Lutia were there again? The thought didn’t sit well with him. 

“Where are we headed?” He replied with a smile. 

“A great little place, you’ll love it,” said Toval. 

The place as it turned out was called The Beige Pyramid, and was the cheekily named bar just across the street from the actual beige pyramid that was the hospital. The place seemed to be entirely populated by hospital staff and was actually quite busy. It was clean and a bit more brightly lit than most places on Cardassia. It was almost sleak, and on a certain level seemed like it was trying to be cool before the end of the war. That feeling was somewhat undercut by the fact that about half the chairs and tables seemed to have been acquired randomly with no thought for the original decorating scheme. Clearly, concessions had been made after the war. 

Toval had rounded up several other doctors and a few nurses too. They was an air of joyful forgetting to the outing. None of them wanted to talk about what they all knew was coming — too many sick Cardassians for them to treat. Nurse Auntal talked about her newborn nephew, who’s scales were just beginning to harden. Dr. Jotun talked about her pottery. Dr. Toval asked advice about a woman he had been seeing. After forceful advice from Auntal and Dr. Kur’il, he agree that he would need to try harder to argue with her, even though he felt he wasn’t particularly good at it. 

As the evening was winding down, Julian found he still had a pressing question. 

“Dr. Toval. Can I ask you a question? I’m worried it’s somewhat ignorant,” he said. 

“I doubt it, Bashir. Go right ahead,” Toval encouraged with an easy smile. 

“Why are Cardassians so sensitive to the rain. Surely, even given the alterations to the climate from the bombardment, it has always rained occasionally on Cardassia. Why is this fungus affected by it so dramatically?” Julian’s face scrunched up, in a questioning manner. 

“On earth, do you drink water from any stream or lake?” asked Toval, as if that answered the question. 

Bashir furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“No, we would get sick. We clean our water, just as you do.”

“But presumably lower animals drink from lakes and streams. So at some time in your evolution you lost this ability. Your infrastructure removed the selective pressure,” Toval continued. 

“Yes. You’re telling me Cardassians lost the ability to be wet?” Julian could tell he sounded incredulous and took a quick swig of kanar to distract from it. 

“It’s not quite that dramatic but our biology is ill suited to it. Long periods of dampness are not healthy, and since our infrastructure has never been worse, it is a uniquely bad time for this illness.”

“So a cure is unlikely?” Julian asked, a lurching feeling a dread sneaking up on him. 

“Perhaps. But you have seen how busy the hospital is already, if we become overwhelmed patients will die. So we have to hope there’s a solution.” Toval’s expression was all seriousness.

***

By the time Julian got home it was quite late. He’d only had two drinks. They were mostly too tired to stay out too late, and all but Dr. Kur’il had to work the next day. 

Garak was on the sofa, reading. He looked up at the sound of Julian’s footsteps. The way Garak narrowed his eyes, Julian knew immediately that Garak had determined his level of intoxication (slight but not insignificant). 

“I thought you grew out of this particular habit, Doctor.” Elim’s voice was harsh. It lacked any playfulness which Julian hoped for. Julian walked into the living room, stopping in front of the sofa to look down at Garak. 

“I fail to see how that’s really any of your business, Garak.”

Garak made a sort of clicking noise of disapproval but didn’t respond. Somehow that was enough to egg Julian on. 

“Besides you didn’t seem above it when we went together.” Julian’s voice came out harsher than he’d intended. 

“Perhaps I’ve learned an important lesson since then.”

Julian shook his head.

“And what’s that?” asked Julian. 

“If it seems too good to be true it probably is,” said Garak matter-a-factly. He looked up briefly and then back down at his book. Julian sighed. 

“I don't know what you could possibly want me to say to that. You've made it clear enough that you don't want another apology. Well frankly! Too bad! I'm sorry Garak!” Julian was shouting now. He took a deep breath, and reigned it in. He quieted his voice and continued. 

“I'm sorry I lied to you. I keep hoping you of all people would understand that there's truth even in lies.”

Garak blinked slowly, looking the doctor over. 

“And what truth would that be?”

“That I care about you. That you are important to me. That I’m happy to be here.”

Garak said nothing, but his eyes remained fixed on Julian. 

“Do you believe me?” Dr. Bashir could hear the quiet desperation coming over his tone. 

Garak was quiet for a moment. 

“Have I mentioned, Doctor, that I’ve decided to take Kelas up on his suggestion and run for office.” His tone was smooth and even, as if he hadn’t even been in the conversation they’d just been having. Of course, Garak would change the subject, Julian sighed to himself. 

“I thought you hated politics, Garak,” he replied. He could only engage Garak on what he wished to speak about. There was no directing the conversation. He sat down on the other side of the L shaped couch, to Garak’s left. 

“I hardly know why that matters, Doctor.” Garak’s eyes continued to follow Julian. 

“Service to the greater good doesn’t have to come at such a personal cost. You have many talents. There are many ways you can contribute. You don’t have to go into politics,” Dr. Bashir said.

“An entirely human perspective. Besides, what ever gave you the impression that I hate politics so much?”

“Garak, I’ve never heard you speak of your work positively. Besides, I know you gave me your office so you could move the annex building and avoid your co-workers.” Julian tried to look at Garak pointedly, but it seemed to bounce off him. 

“Certainly, I have no idea what you mean.”

Julian reached out to touch Garak’s arm softly. The Cardassian flinched, but did not pull away.

“I just want you to be happy. I’ll support you no matter what. I just wonder if this is the right path.”

“I don’t know what gives you the right to comment, Doctor,” Garak replied, looking into the doctor’s eyes. 

Elim’s eyes were so blue. For a moment Julian was overwhelmed. He looked away. 

“You’re right,” Julian said, still looking down. “I know you’re angry and hurt, and that’s fair. But please know I still care about you and only want you to live a life which makes you happy.”

“Doctor, my happiest life went out the window a considerable time ago. I must settle for doing my duty. There is happiness enough in that.” His voice came out bitter, it seemed to even surprise Garak how bitter. 

“Still,” replied Julian. His eyes looked up to met Garak’s. This time it was Garak’s turn to look away. 

Garak scoffed but for once didn’t retort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're still having fun! 
> 
> These fools really deserve each other! I promise we're getting closer to them figuring that out :)


	34. Firm Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several conversations between err.. friends

Three days had passed uneventfully since Julian’s most recent attempted apology. Perhaps it was uneventful because Garak seemed so unwilling to engage him on any topic of substance. Julian had tried politics, literature, history, and had only had mild success regarding the weather. It had rained that day, which had shut much of the city down for nearly four hours. It seemed Garak had transitioned from physically avoiding Julian, to mentally avoiding him. Sitting in the same room was acceptable, but he seemed to want to actively discourage conversation. And if Julian was being honest, it was getting to him. He could accept that Elim wasn’t in love with him, but the idea of never having a conversation with him again was a bridge too far. 

It was a rare morning where their schedules lined up. They were seated across from each other at the table, eating their respective breakfasts in silence. 

“Would you be happier if I didn’t live here?” Julian asked, looking up at Garak as he did so. 

“Excuse me, Doctor?” Garak sounded confused. He tilted his head in such a way that suggested he needed the idea to be further clarified. 

“It just doesn’t seem like you want me around. You won’t hardly talk to me. And well I know there’s a housing shortage, but the Federation gave me a housing stipend. I just, I think I could find somewhere else to live if you would rather I do that.” Julian looked up at Garak, trying very hard to convey his sincerity with his eyes. 

“Is that what you want, Doctor?” Garak asked. His voice was devoid of emotion. 

“No,” frowned Julian. “Not really. What I really want is to genuinely have your friendship again. And I wonder if it might be easier for you if I didn’t also live with you.” Julian looked down at his ration bar.

“I wouldn’t ask you to move,” replied Garak simply. 

“That’s not what I asked. You seem a little miserable about me living here. Would you be happier if I didn’t live here?” 

“No, Doctor. I would not be.” Garak wasn’t looking at him, but his voice was firm and steady. 

“You don’t have to protect my feelings, Garak. If you are miserable, then I am miserable. I can’t be happy if my presence makes you unhappy,” Julian insisted. 

“If you don’t want to live here Julian, please don’t stay on my account. But please spare me your Federation concern for my happiness,” Garak fired back. 

_That’s the first time he’s called you Julian since the fight_ , Julian’s mind supplied. The thought was distracting. 

“I don’t… it’s not… I just wonder if you may be better able to forgive me if you don’t have to see me every day.” Dr. Bashir tried to explain, but he could feel Garak misunderstanding him. Whether it was willful or not, Julian couldn’t tell. 

“I hardly understand how those things are connected,” Garak replied. His voice remained aloof, as if the conversation weren’t really touching him. 

Julian sighed. 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” Julian asked. 

Garak looked at him blankly, taking a bite of his Federation ration bar. Clearly the human expression didn’t register. He tried something else. 

“Look it’s just… I wonder if you’ll ever forgive me. I’m beginning to worry you won’t,” Dr. Bashir continued. 

“May I suggest you try a little harder in the future, Doctor. Perhaps start by not suggesting my presence is burdensome to you.” Garak got up from the table, took his plate to sink and grabbed his bag. 

“That’s really not…“ Julian began, but Garak cut him off. 

“I have to go to work. I’ll see you tonight, if you haven’t moved out by then.”

Julian opened his mouth to retort, but Garak was already out the front door. Julian slumped over his empty plate. _Well, that had about the opposite of the intended effect. Someday you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut, Julian._

***

Kelas had been expecting Garak. When Lutia had said she had no strong political opinions, Kelas knew that Elim would find her unfit. It was not a surprise when Garak barged into office to confront him. The surprise was that it had taken nearly four days.

Garak started going in on him the second the door was shut. Kelas hardly had time to look up from his ever growing pile of paperwork (still no constitution but yet there was paperwork). 

“Kelas! I cannot believe the insult you showed me.” Garak’s eyes boiled with barely contained rage. 

“Elim, I really can’t imagine what would upset you so greatly. Please tell me,” Parmak insisted gently. He stood up from his position behind his desk. 

“No political opinions? And then by the end of the night she managed to mention she had no interest in literature, music or the visual arts!” Garak was pacing wildly. He looked well and truly beside himself. 

“Yes, that was rather unfortunate,” Parmak conceded, walking towards Garak. He didn’t want to get too near to the man. He seemed still rather angry. 

“The only thing she had any passion for was water treatment.” Garak sighed. “And she was too nice! Are they not treating Cardassians how to flirt anymore? Frankly, Kelas she was dull!” Garak was still shouting. 

“Telora speaks highly of her, but clearly it was not a match,” Kelas conceded. 

“Not to mention, she was so young. I thought I was clear that I wanted someone closer to my own age!”

“I clearly underestimated the seriousness of those comments. Let me make it up to you.” Kelas kept his voice calm. It was the only way he’d get out of this without his friend totally losing it. There was no telling how many weapons Garak had on his person at any given time. 

“How?” Elim’s blue eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. He was calmer, but Kelas could see there remained a raging undercurrent of emotions. 

“Describe to me exactly what you want in a partner. I will consider these qualities, and then in several weeks we can try again.”

“You will find someone who meets my every parameter?” Garak asked with some suspicion. He stopped pacing and retreated to sit in the arm chair in the corner of the office.

“Yes,” said Kelas. 

“I want someone who is my equal. My equal in intellect, in conversation and in duty,” Garak began. His voice held an edge of unsteadiness. 

“Of course, continue.” Kelas walked towards Elim, slowly as one might walk when trying to catch a vole. 

“I want someone who can see what Cardassia is on the precipice of and who wants to see her grow.”

“Yes.” Kelas urged him on. A few steps closer. 

“I want someone who will not be bothered by my past. Someone who saw the war, and still thinks there is good in the world. Someone loyal, and kind. Someone I can grow with.”

“Elim, very recently you were quite insistent that you already knew such a person. In fact, it was hard to get you to be quiet on the subject.” Kelas raised his eye ridges to give Garak a knowing look. 

Garak scoffed. 

“You never approved of that,” he replied.

“No, but I must say I am confused. I’ve never known Elim Garak to be inconstant.” Kelas’s eyes searched his friend, looking for truth which was often hard to parse with Garak. 

“Can’t it be enough for me to say you were right, and I was wrong?” Garak’s voice wavered. 

“He rejected…” Kelas began. Elim cut him off. 

“Not in so many words,” Garak said tersely, getting up from the chair to leave. 

“I’m sorry for asking,” Kelas lied. 

***   
That night, Julian had worked well past his shift. The hospital was getting fuller by the day. He kept hoping to have an opportunity to do some research, but realistically he was working overtime just to keep up with the workload he had. In some ways he felt like a resident again. Back in those early days of his medical training he often felt he might mess up, and was working long hours just to keep up. He had more energy back then, or at least in his memory he did. Now at the end of each day he found himself hollowed out and tired. Perhaps he was finally getting old and couldn’t burn the candle at both ends anymore. 

Nonetheless, when Toval suggested they get drinks after work, as he did more days than not, Julian almost always said yes. And why not? Occasionally he would get off early enough to make the trip to the orphanage, but most days it was already passed dinnertime. And it wasn’t like Garak ever seemed happy to see him. 

Given his options, Julian decided to be a regular at The Beige Pyramid. Nurse Auntal and Dr. Jotun had just left, so it was only him and Toval now. They were already two drinks in, standing at a table towards the center of the bar. 

Julian was beginning to feel like he needed expert advice. Everyone liked Toval, so he must know something. 

“Toval, can I ask you a question about Cardassian customs?” 

“Yes, of course.” Toval’s smile was genuine and bright. 

“Recently, a friend caught me in a lie. It was something I meant to tell him, but didn’t know how to. I've been attempting to apologize to him with little success. I'm wondering if there's something I don't understand about Cardassian apologies… “ Julian trailed off. 

“Have you asked for forgiveness?” asked Toval. He scrunched his handsome face questioningly. 

“No, not explicitly. Is that customary?” 

“Yes, very much so,” Toval replied earnestly. “An apology without a request for forgiveness is viewed as insincere.”

“And why is that?” Julian asked, feeling foolish for not having asked someone this weeks ago. 

“If the asker cannot even ask for forgiveness, then how can it be given?” Toval said, taking a sip from his kanar. 

Julian mulled the thought over. 

“One more question… Do I have to give ground? Should I give ground?” 

“That entirely depends. Refusing to give ground, but asking for forgiveness regardless is not without its romantic connotations,” Toval said. 

“Can I even hope to understand why that would be?” Julian asked, letting out a small defeated sigh. He looked down at his glass to find it empty. Toval giggled. 

“You’re asking for something unreasonable. To ask forgiveness without giving ground? This is not something one would not ask in most relationships. It implies you trust the relationship to withstand and exist beyond the immediate wrongdoing and apology. It represents an understanding that the relationship does not need concessions to flourish.”

“That’s absurd!” Julian exclaimed, his voice a little too loud. “Every relationship requires concessions.”

“Perhaps,” Toval smirked. “I said such a choice would be romantic, not realistic. And certainly you would be right on one account. I’ve had friends for whom such an approach backfired.”

***

Later that night as he walked home from the bar, Julian found his mind wandered back to a night long ago in the infirmary. Elim had asked for forgiveness then, and Julian had given it freely. At the time he had not even really considered what it meant. He had not even known Elim and Garak were the same man. But as the years went on it became more apparent. There was something to that forgiveness that was all encompassing. Not even when Garak attempted a genocide that would have killed them both was he well and truly angry. In retrospect, that forgiveness had been an act of pure love. He had not needed to truly forgive Garak to comfort him, but he had all the same. Julian hadn’t considered that the act of giving forgiveness could be as transformational as receiving it. He had known then that he was comforting Garak, but had little suspected the change such an act would elicit within himself. 

Julian wondered if Elim would be able to grant him forgiveness. There was only one way to know, and that was to ask. Perhaps, they would both be transformed again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta do a lotta world building in the next chapter, so it may be a minute, but I think you'll like it :)


	35. Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the process of repair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer chapter than my normal but I felt like I wanted to keep it all together. Hope it was worth the wait!

It was the end of another long and altogether boring day. Garak was settling into his room for the night, ready to change, and then read proposals for judicial structure until he was too bored to remain conscious. As he went to fetch his pajamas, he found his eyes drawn to the pile of maroon silk that had not been touched for weeks. He kneeled and picked up the fabric, turning it over in his hands. _ It’s really very quality material, and not cheaply obtained either. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.  _

His fingers traced the seam which ran down the center of the shirt; he had ripped it in anger. The edges had frayed but he had left a good amount of seam allowance. Garak laid the shirt flat on his work table. 

Examination of the wound showed it would not be as simple as re-stitching the broken seam. The fabric around the rip had warped from the stress of the tear, and was ruined. Quick work with scissors excised the frayed edges. This left essentially a jacket with the front completely open. Had the shirt been made of a sturdy fabric, he might have made it into a jacket, but the light silk made the garment just look like a shirt with several inches missing down the middle. Garak fought the idea of Julian wearing something which would openly expose so much of his smooth, brown chest. The image was tantalizing, perhaps made more so by how unattainable it was. 

He tutted at the item rather reproachfully. Clearly, to actually be worn, it would need a center panel. The maroon silk itself was long gone, as most of it had been used for the shirt, and then the scraps were repurposed in other works. 

Judicial proposals and sleep long forgotten, Garak hauled his scrap bin out of the closet. He searched through it, feeling around for something thin and silky. If the fabric did not move similarly, the seam would be too harsh. Finally, his hands landed on a thin piece of gold silk. 

Elim’s mind reeled backwards, and in his mind's eye he saw the gold key he gave Julian. As soon as the thought arrived, his mind shifted, settling on Kelas’ words when his friend had realized. Garak had insisted that he was in the right, and then he had been proven catastrophically wrong. He felt foolish again, bitterness rising in his mouth. Why had he done such a thing? It seemed at least, that Julian had not figured out the significance of the gift, or else had remained tactfully silent on the matter. Garak did not find Julian was often tactfully silent, but in a case like this, it seemed at least possible. 

_ Well, I guess gold is his color _ . The thought was heavy, hurtful even. But there was nothing to be done for it. 

He laid the scrap of gold fabric down on the garment, and chalked out where it would need to timmed. He cut the fabric to size, and then went back to his supply bin. Garak’s hands searched around until he found his smallest pins. Turning the shirt inside out, he carefully pinned the center panel into place along the two seams; delicate touch was necessary so the silk would not show the holes. Next, hand stitching it carefully, he sewed the panel into place — first to one side, then to the other. With the panel in place, he turned the edges of the seems over, and stitched them in place to finish them. Finally he finished the hem at the bottom of the shirt, and at the wide neck line. 

Garak turned the shirt right side out and hung it up, standing back to look at his work. He had to admit, the gold was a nice addition, taking the piece from well designed and simple, to a bit more individualized, more Julian. 

Fixing the shirt lifted a weight in a way that Garak had not expected. It would be a nice going away present, for certainly his housemate would be going away soon. Discussions of moving aside, he had heard from Kelas that there was a promising cure being developed, with the potential to be readily available soon. Once the outbreak was controlled, what else was there to keep Julian on Cardassia? 

_ Cardassia is on the path to recovery. All that remains now is the slow and unyielding work of rebuilding. It will take years, decades even. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves.  _

With the increasing likelihood of Julian going away, Garak wondered if there was any advantage to remaining angry with him. Was he ever really mad at Julian? Or simply at his own weakness of sentiment? Being rude and standoffish to Julian might hurt the doctor now, but he would get over it. In the end, when he left, it would be Garak who would really suffer for having been so stubborn. Maybe all along his anger had only been self-flagellation. He would need to try to be kinder. 

_ Something needs to be done to patch things up before he leaves. As such, a going away present is necessary. And perhaps Julian will understand. Perhaps he will write.  _

_ It will be harder if he writes.  _

Certainly, there were advantages to banishing the doctor from his thoughts forever. However, Garak was unconvinced that attempts to do so were likely to be fruitful.

***

As the days passed, and Julian thought about it more, the more he realized he needed to turn his apology into an event. Certainly, he had apologized half a dozen times at seemingly random occasions to Garak. This time, that would not do. It would need to feel planned. It would need to feel thought out. On some level, Julian felt he needed to catch Garak unaware. Garak’s defenses were never really down, but if they were on high alert the whole effort might well be useless. 

And if Toval’s Cardassian cultural advice was to be understood, Julian couldn’t really even be apologetic, couldn’t back off previously pathetic attempts of justification. He knew he had to channel the cockiness of his early days on DS9. At the time, that confidence had been all fake, and certainly most of it would be fake this time as well. All the same, for Garak, if he could understand, it would be worth it. Elim, of all people could look at a mask and see under it. Certainly, it wouldn’t take anything so crass as a confession for him to understand the nature of Julian’s feelings. Elim was a man of insinuation; he would appreciate and prefer such a style of communication. Julian would wear a mask for Elim — after all, he did so for many years and didn’t even realize it. 

It had taken several days to think of and arrange the perfect place, but by the end of the week Julian was confident enough in his plans. He arrived home a bit earlier than usual, catching Garak mid-dinner. 

“Doctor, you’re home early,” Garak noted. His eyes glanced over Bashir suspiciously, as if searching for some readily apparent reason. He was holding a half eaten ration bar and had an open PADD on the table. 

“Yes, well I had an invitation to offer for tomorrow. If you’re free…”

“I’m listening.” Despite himself, Garak looked intrigued. 

“Well, I managed to arrange a tour of the Capital Museum. I thought you might like to join me.” Julian smiled. He couldn’t help but feel confident this was an invite Garak would feel compelled to accept. 

“I hardly have to tell you that it’s remained closed since the end of the war.”

“Yes, there are some perks to my current position.” Julian tried to look the correct amount of self satisfied. 

“An intriguing offer, doctor.”

“I know it’s a bit last minute, and you’re a busy man. Don’t feel you have to join me,” said Julian. For once in his life, he felt confident Garak would not turn him down. 

“I think I can make time,” Garak replied. 

***

The museum was expansive, that much was clear walking into the lobby. It was a wide and spacious room with vaulted ceilings. The stone was a pale sandy white, making the room feel big and airy. Benches and a front desk really made the museum look not unlike museums Julian had seen on earth. The main difference was that the ceiling had collapsed in some sections leaving massive piles of stone rubble. The gapes in the roof were covered with what appeared to be large temporary tarp-like coverings. They seemed plenty secure for a stall in a market, but seemed entirely insufficient for protecting what was likely some very valuable art. 

As they walked in, Garak let out an audible gasp, a sound between joy and horror. 

“The last time I was here was almost fifteen years ago. I have to say this wasn’t the homecoming I dreamed about,” said Garak, with a sigh. 

Just as he said so, the curator, Gevila, walked into the lobby to meet them. Julian had messaged with her to organize their visit, but all the same he was not prepared for her dramatic appearance. She was tall, maybe an inch taller than himself, with broad shoulders, and approaching middle age. Her features were severe even for a Cardassian, with a thick ridged brow making her seem quite serious. She wore a long black dress which highlighted her shoulder ridges, and made her look even taller still.

“Dr. Bashir, Mr. Garak, it's a pleasure to have you here. And yes. We’ve been working for some time on rehabbing the museum, but we’re certainly a long way off from inviting the public,” Gevila said. 

“I can tell already how grand this place was.” Julian’s eyes traveled the walls looking at the scars left from the bombardment. 

“Yes. I’m happy to show you the few galeries which remained intact, but it’s a short tour, and only a small fraction of the total collection. Much of the building remains structurally compromised and is in no condition for visitors.”

“Of course. Lead the way,” Julian replied. 

She directed them to a doorway to the east which entered into a dark gallery, it had low ceilings and stretched out in every direction. The room was dotted with black stone sculptures of life size figures.The light in the gallery was poor, and Julian found himself squinting to see across the room. As he looked, Julian realized the statues must be made from obsidian. 

Garak for his part seemed transfixed, approaching a nearby statue of a Cardassian woman. Her face was strong, and her eyes striking with small jade green stones forming illuminated irises which seemed to peer out of the darkness. The stone woman was clothed in a sleek dress, and long hair tumbled down to her waist. 

“This gallery contains stone statues of the Early Cardassian age. Mr. Garak is observing one of the more famous and beloved works, Tet of Nil,” Gevila explained. 

Julian circled the statue, trying to see the dark stone clearly in the dim light. The jade green eyes seemed to follow him as he did so.

“She founded the Obsidian Order, over 1700 years ago. It was said she was force to behold. Some of the interrogation techniques she innovated were still taught… quite recently.” Garak’s blue eyes lingered on Julian, and suddenly it felt like two spies were watching him. 

“These ancient statues are some of the oldest pieces in the museum. Anything predating the Cardassian age was deemed to be inappropriate to display.” Gevila spoke as if Garak’s discussion of torture methods did not phase her. 

“Why is that?” Julian asked, his eyes still on the statue. 

“The original purpose of this museum was to glorify the contributions of Cardassians, and the great Cardassian Union. Anything which suggested a different kind of society once thrived on this planet undermined that objective. We have a different long term vision for the museum now, but our resources are currently devoted to preserving that which was not completely destroyed in the war.” Gevila smiled tightly, and gestured towards a statue of a shorter male nearby. “And here is the founder of the Depta Council.”

Julian walked towards it, finding the statue to be a good deal less intimidating. Instead the man had a sly grin, as if he was in on some joke.

“He looks quite tame in comparison,” Julian noted.

“Who do you think the sculptors were trying to please?” Garak’s face composed itself into a sly smile. 

They walked through the room, passing dozens of statues in the same style. The figures were strong with defined ridges, and often serious looks. Gevila did not need to tell Julian that these had been leaders. The deeper into the gallery they went, the more intricate the statues became, evidence of hundreds of years of technique improvement. 

As they reached the end of the gallery, a doorway led into a room with soft brown walls, and slightly brighter lighting. This room had higher ceilings, and if Julian was honest, a much more welcoming energy. Paintings of Cardassian cities, with strong architectural focus hung on the walls. They ranged in size from the size of a PADD to canvases as tall as Julian and twice as wide. It was a room of strong and expressive lines in sandy beige. 

Garak was drawn forward again, this time to a large painting of the Capitol building as viewed from an angle above. The building appeared to lurch forward at the viewer. 

“It’s quite striking,” remarked Julian, walking up and standing next to Garak. “It does not take much for me to understand how this glorified the union.”

“This is by the great Marl Duvar. He established this style nearly 300 hundred years ago. It was a major innovation and artistic leap,” said Gevila. Julian heard almost nothing she said. He was too busy watching Garak, who’s features seemed to transform and soften in the presence of art. 

“When I saw this as a boy, I wanted to be a painter.” Garak’s eyes were far off. 

“You still can be.”

Garak did not reply, though Julian noticed a slight wetness in his eye that looked like it might be a tear. 

The next gallery was blue. The paintings on the wall were more gestural. The shapes hinted at ridges and scales, both exaggerated and subtle. A large painting, which Julian came face to face with when he entered, seemed to hint at a neck and shoulder ridge. It was done in shades of blue and grey. After a beat, Julian realized there was a certain level of eroticism on display here that would prove distracting. 

“A great stylistic era,” said Garak wryly. His eyes were on Julian, and he was clearly quite amused. 

Gevila, either ignoring or missing Garak’s meaning entirely, began to speak at length about the scale as a motif in Cardassian art, and the rather unfortunate speciest connotations underlying some of the art. Julian found his focus almost entirely taken by a rather arresting work depicting Cardassian toes.

“Do you agree with that, Doctor?” Garak asked, cutting through Julian’s distraction. 

“Oh er, what’s that?” Julian replied, turning to Garak with a sheepish look. 

“Gevila was just mentioning that a future reopened museum would focus more on the history and context of the work.” 

“Yes, we want to create a more honest picture of our history. For example, some of the artists whose works are in this gallery were some of the greatest supporters of the Bajoran occupation.” Gevila gestured to the painting Julian had been occupied with. 

Suddenly, Julian’s attention was not on toes. 

“I do agree, Garak. On earth, museums have been used to reckon with difficult events of our history. They can be important reminders and memorials.”

Garak looked at him pensively, so Julian continued. 

“You’re about to call me a Federation idealist aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t actually.” Garak’s eyes met Bashir’s before turning to look at the view screen sized painting of a chufa, the Cardassian chest spoon. 

Through a door on the left side of the blue gallery, they walked into a yellow room. It was filled with pottery on pedestals. Garak’s eyes turned immediately to Gevila. 

“I find I am surprised to see these still here,” said Garak. His tone was sharp, and Julian felt instantly grateful his anger seemed to be directed at Gevila. 

“Yes. There have been plans for repatriation, but we’ve been waiting for the permanent government to be set up,” Gevila explained. 

“I would do no such thing. Right now there is almost no oversight of your organization. You can do what’s right now, and later if the government questions your actions, you can make any number of excuses. The opportunity may fade if you wait,” Garak replied, more kindly this time. Julian looked between them, confused. 

“I think you’ve lost me a bit. Can someone explain?” 

Gevila gestured out at the expanse of pottery. 

“All of this was stolen from Bajor at the start of the occupation,” she said. 

“Oh. I would have expected a museum about Cardassian superiority to contain only works by Cardassians,” Julian mused. 

“Ah doctor, that is where you are wrong. To possess, to steal and own, these are declarations of superiority too. Particularly ugly ones.” Garak’s eyes held his own, blue and serious. 

The pottery itself was beautiful, though Julian found he experienced more sadness than joy seeing it in this place. The pots seemed to function as meditations on roundness, each exploring the idea in it’s own way. There was a pot which seemed to bubble and ooze, another with seemingly thousands of tiny circles etched into it, one with large and nested round divutes. The clay was largely grey, though some of the pots were stained or glazed in earthy reds and muted purples. Each one was different, and there must have been near a hundred. After several minutes, the doctor spoke up. 

“What is the significance of these pots? And how did they come to be here.”

“These are Bajoran Orb pots. They were made as an abstract expression of orb experiences and faith. This collection ranges from 600 years old to just before the occupation. As to how we acquired these objects, official museum documents say they were gifted by the Bajoran people. The reality is much more bloody.” Gevila looked uncomfortable as she spoke, shifting the weight of her tall form from one foot to the other. 

“Garak is right, these shouldn’t be here. If you need help organizing a hasty return of these to Bajor, I am sure the Federation would be happy to help.” 

“A generous offer. Thank you, Dr. Bashir.” Gevila bowed her head. 

“I think I’ve seen enough of this gallery,” Julian continued. 

“Of course.” 

At the end of the pottery gallery there were doors to an outdoor garden filled with sculptures. Once outside the museum, Julian felt himself let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

***

Garak was more than happy to leave the Bajoran gallery, and to find himself in a fairly well maintained garden. 

Sculptures twisted above the shrubbery, metal monstrosities, garish and grotesque. Garak mused they did not look much different from Tain’s house.  _ What an awful era in Cardassian aesthetics _ . The sun was bright and hot, and it felt good to step into its light. 

“Unfortunately, that’s all the galeries that are fit to be seen at the moment. We’re working to preserve those with more extensive damage, but it's painstaking work. There are still galleries covered in rubble, art buried in who knows what condition. We don’t have many hands to help and we’ve not been made a resource priority. No one feels comfortable giving to a place that used to exist to uphold the ideals of Cardassian racial superiority. We want this museum to be about something else now, but of course not everyone can imagine that vision.” Gevila seemed a bit more confident now, out in the sun. 

“Thank you so much for the tour and for telling me more about your culture.” Julian smiled, his handsome brown eyes squinting in the afternoon light.

“It was a pleasure, Dr. Bashir and Mr. Garak.” She nodded at each of them. 

“Would you mind terribly if we walked the garden alone for a while?” asked Julian. 

“Of course, you should explore,” Gevila replied. 

“Thank you,” Julian lowered his head as a sign of respect. 

Garak and Julian walked for a moment in silence. The abstract and twisting black statues loomed over them as they meandered down the path. For once, the curiosity bubbled out of Garak. 

“Doctor, why are we here exactly? I have a hard time imagining the only point of this visit was to look at art.” Garak hated to do something as unsubtle as asking, but the doctor had seemed so uncharacteristically silent. Perhaps it was a purposeful tactic. Perhaps he was still thinking about stolen pottery. 

Julian chuckled at that. Garak waited for an answer. 

“Garak, you once told me that Cardassia needed people to be gardeners and tailors. People who could mend. That men like you needed to change. Did you mean that?” Julian’s eyes were soft and brown; they seemed to plead, though Garak could not imagine for what. 

“You didn't respond to that letter,” Garak replied. He looked forward, down the path, and away from Julian. It was not hard to hear the defensiveness in his tone, and he wondered if the doctor could hear it too. 

“Yeah… I wrote out a reply, but I never sent it.” Julian rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Everything I said felt too trite. You were rebuilding a planet. I was mourning a relatively insignificant breakup.”

“You really didn't know what to say,” Elim said. He turned his head, his eyes directing their full attention to Dr. Bashir. Garak felt at least that he was hearing the truth. 

“Did you consider, Doctor, that I could have benefited from hearing from you? That rebuilding a planet is rotten work, and that I needed a friend?” Garak continued. He would not look away, not now. 

It seemed to take Julian a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“I... You once told me sentiment was the greatest weakness of all. I always thought of you as above such things.”

“How could I know it was such a weakness, if I was not susceptible?” Elim asked in reply. They continued to walk side by side, the path stretching away from the museum into a vast expanse of gardens. 

“It has always been hard for me to imagine that,” Julian said. 

Garak only just stopped himself from erupting in bitter laughter.  _ Clearly the masks worked a bit too well. _

“You saved my life, Doctor.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was safe, a retreat.

“I would have done the same for anyone.” Julian’s expression was open; it struck something in Garak’s chest that nearly made him look away. 

_ You needn’t remind me, dear. I know.  _ He kept this particular thought to himself. Instead he pressed on. 

“Doctor, you never answered my question. Why are we here?” Garak gestured at the sculptures, the lawn, the looming and broken building of the museum. 

“I thought it was time for me to ask for your forgiveness,” said Julian. He seemed uncharacteristically calm. 

“As delightful as this little field trip was, was it strictly necessary to that end? You could have just asked me at home.” Garak raised his ridges in a questioning glance. 

“Yes, Garak. Yes it was. You were angry that I undervalued our friendship, that I undervalued you. You’re a suspicious person by nature. And I thought if I could show you an alternative to your current path. Look,” Julian pointed to the museum behind them. “You could help them rebuild, to redefine Cardassia’s legacy of artistry. I wanted to encourage you to explore, and to be joyful, that even if you didn’t agree with me and my Federation ideals, you would understand my sincerity. I thought I might restore your faith in my regard for you.” Julian’s brown eyes were wide and insistent, Elim felt he might all but lose himself in them. 

“I see,” Garak replied. 

“So I’m asking your forgiveness. I hope I’ve earned…“ 

Garak cut him off. 

“You have. You have my forgiveness, my dear doctor,” he said. Garak realized as he said it, that it was true. He had been ready to lie, but he hadn’t needed to. 

In reply, the doctor smiled at him, seeming to radiate goodness. And really, Garak had to forgive Julian. It simply couldn’t be withheld any longer. There was nothing to be done about the fact that the human didn’t love him. There was only forgiveness. It was easily given too. Those eyes full of eagerness and hope, the same eyes that compelled Garak to love Julian, also compelled him to forgive him. 

There was something bordering on Cardassian to this apology. It didn’t quite have the same tact, but there was a passing resemblance. Had it come from anyone else, Garak might have even called it romantic. But from Julian, he knew better. The man was stubborn. It was entirely within his nature to seek forgiveness without ever really relenting. 

“Thank you, Garak,” Julian finally replied. He looked away. For a second, Garak thought he saw something in his eyes like disappointment, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @sapphose for talking about Cardassian and Bajoran art with me!! They had super helpful insight without which this chapter would have taken longer to write and been worse. 
> 
> Also hopefully the parallels are clear enough that I don't have to say it, but I'm going to go ahead and say it. Museums owned by colonizers shouldn't have Egyptian Mummies/Mayan stone carvings/stolen art in general.


	36. Holding Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julian tries to figure out where he stands and what he should do

“Okay and then what happened?” Toval prompted. The Beige Pyramid was bustling. It had been another long day at the hospital, and Julian had agreed to grab drinks with Toval after. Their coworkers had begged off, so it was just the two of them. 

“We walked home. We had dinner. It was very normal. As if he hadn’t ever been mad at me at all!” Julian sighed and stared down into his kanar, feeling defeat wash over him. 

“Did he argue with you?” Toval prompted.

“Not particularly, no.”

“Oh that’s not good.” Toval looked puzzled. 

“He’s rejected me, hasn’t he? There’s no way that I was too subtle?” Julian could tell he sounded pathetic. He took a gulp of kanar. 

“It didn’t sound subtle to me. If anything, it was too blatant. If a woman treated me like that after such a gesture, well I would be well and discouraged. Maybe quit the affair entirely.” Toval’s tone was excessively apologetic. 

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” Toval’s face wasn’t making Julian feel any better — it had pity written all over it. 

“No I mean, it’s my fault isn’t it? I should have said something years ago.” Julian looked down at his rapidly emptying glass, and fought the urge to feel like a sad sack. “Shit, Toval. Cheer me up. How are things with the woman you’ve been seeing?”

“She ended our courtship,” Toval replied, taking a sip of his kanar. 

“It seemed like it was going so well!” 

“The breakup was so polite too. Completely mortifying.” He sighed. 

“Did she say why? Er… I mean you don’t have to tell me if that’s too personal,” he quickly revised. Julian could never quite tell when a friendship had progressed enough to ask these sorts of questions, and the added layer of Cardassian culture only worsened the matter. 

“No, it’s quite alright. She said I was too optimistic for her.” Toval gave a pained smile.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous! Well you’re too good for her. You deserve someone who appreciates you.”

“Really, it’s alright. I liked her, but it was early enough. We’d been seeing each other for less than a month. I think the real question is what are you going to do about Garak? You’ve been in love with him, for what, years?”

“Yes, that is the measure of it.” Julian sighed, emptying his glass. The sticky smoky beverage coated his throat. 

“I wish I had advice.”

“Yeah, I mean what’s there to do? He’s rejected me. And I live in his house, so I don’t want to press the matter. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable just so he can be more blatant in rejecting me.” Julian’s hand slipped into his pocket, and his finger traced the key there, worrying at it. After a minute he withdrew his hand, leaving the key in his pocket. 

“Are you going to keep living with him? You know it’s great to have you at the hospital, but you could leave. Working on a starship sounds pretty exciting to me.” 

“You know, I’ve honestly lost my taste for it entirely. Before I came here I was supposed to join an exploratory mission, and I wasn’t excited about it. It was just something to do. I was starting to imagine settling down here. Now, I don’t know. Is not having anywhere else to go a good enough reason to stay?” 

Julian of course didn’t mention that he didn’t even know if he could leave. Would section 31 let him? They had been awfully quiet. 

“I think only you can answer that,” said Toval. 

***

“Julian, you’re home late.” As he said it, he felt bad, immediately realizing how accusatory his words must sound. 

“Toval wanted to grab drinks,” Julian replied plopping down on the couch beside him. “You’re free to join us sometime, though it’s usually spontaneous.” Julian seemed tired to Garak. He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes. Garak admired briefly the lines of his neck before looking away. 

“That’s perfectly alright, Doctor. I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

“It wouldn’t be intruding.” Julian sat up and looked towards Garak, who kept his eyes resolutely pointed at his PADD. 

Garak didn’t know what to say to that, and held his tongue. 

“If the bar isn’t as much your thing, you could always visit the orphanage with me. I was planning to go tomorrow after work. Niskia said they can always use more help.” His eyes were wide and his face earnest. Really it was unfair; Garak couldn’t say no to that face. 

“I think I could make time,” said Garak, his voice more measured than he felt. 

“Great! You’ll like it. I promise.” Julian’s smile was eager and open. Really what was there to say to him but yes?

***

They walked home from the orphanage in the fading light of the day. Garak was uncharacteristically quiet so Julian’s thoughts wandered to their visit. 

Garak had already arrived at the orphanage when Julian got there after work. He sat between three children explaining something about a nearby plant. The memory of it had a certain potency. Something about the way Garak’s features softened had been enough for Julian to think _Garak would be a good dad_. The thought had hit him completely unaware, and since been traipsing along beside his other thoughts in the hours since. It had lingered on the edge of awareness when he had tea with Niskia and Or’rutha, and threatened to interrupt his work as he patched up a scraped knee from a game resembling both tag and hide and seek that had gotten out of hand. Now in the silence of the evening, with no distractions, he felt the thought settle into a dull aching in the center of his chest. 

It wasn’t like Garak even wanted kids, right? Julian’s mind spun forward to an imagined future not worth lingering on. He’d never imagined having kids himself, but with Garak… well there was some appeal in that. 

Garak interrupted his machinations. 

“You’ve heard no doubt that a cure is quite close to being widely available,” Garak said. His eyes followed him as they walked. 

“I know none of the details, only that it’s not a cure, it's a prophylactic.” Julian turned his head slightly to reply. 

“Yes, that is more precise terminology. Kelas said it was of Terran origin. Something called petroleum jelly?” 

Julian’s mouth fell open in complete and genuine surprise.

“No. Tell me you’re kidding.” For a second, Julian halted, his brain unable to both walk and process the information. 

“I assure you I’m not, doctor. I had never heard of it before, and am still unfamiliar. Though it seems the same cannot be said for you.” Garak turned back to Julian, waiting for him to continue their walk home. 

“No, Garak, it's an incredibly old and simple earth lotion,” Julian replied. He sprung forward the few steps between them, and again they continued to walk home. 

“Fascinating,” Garak replied, though his tone conveyed that it wasn’t really. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t consider… Shit. You know my mother always kept a tub of it in the washroom. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me.” Julian dragged one of his hands through his hair absentmindedly. 

“Doctor, you’ve been quite busy providing actual medical care, and managing relations with the federation. No one in their right mind would expect you to also be researching with the number of hours you’ve been working.” Garak trained his eyes on the doctor, blue pools of intensity with Julian felt on him even as he looked away. 

“I really haven’t…” Julian began, stopping himself as he noticed the absolute withering look Garak was giving him. 

“I promise you, doctor, there are plenty of Cardassians not doing half so much as you.” Garak’s expression had turned now to one of incredible kindness. The look did something funny to Julian’s insides; it was the odd combination of both craving such words of kindness from the man, while also finding his tone not nearly as argumentative as Julian would desire. 

“That’s hardly an appropriate standard to judge by,” Julian asserted. “It’s much more prudent to ask about my capacity to help, if I have helped as much as I can?” 

“You’ve spoken against such an attitude when I’ve applied it to myself or other Cardassians. Yet you liberally apply such a philosophy to yourself.” Garak’s eyes had a fierce spark; he knew he’d made a good point. 

“It’s different,” Julian began. “It has to be worth it. What my parents did to me has to be worth it.”

“Julian,” his name came out of Garak’s mouth soft and subtle. “You don’t have to justify your right to exist. And even if you did, you already would have. You’ve done so much.”

“But is it as much as…” 

Garak cut him off again. 

“You spend your free time at an orphanage. I cannot imagine what else you could possibly ask of yourself. This isn’t even your homeworld.”

“I keep hoping it could be home. I've been thinking it would be nice to have a home.” Julian looked out on the rolling desert and the fading lavender light of the day. Wispy orange clouds washed across the sky. There was a cool breeze. It did feel like it could be home, but it didn’t mean it would be. 

Garak was silent for some time. As they approached the house, the lavender of the evening fading into an inky navy, he finally spoke up. 

“Julian, I have a book I think you'd like if you're interested. I know you're busy with medical literature so only if you have time of course. I'll probably read a little while when we get home if you'd like to join me.”

“I’d love that,” Julian replied. Their eyes met briefly, brown and blue collided like the ocean meeting the shore. Julian looked away, instead reaching into his pocket, grabbing his key, and unlocking the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toval and Julian share 1 brain cell, and it’s not great at romance/picking up on context clues. 
> 
> Just want to thank everyone who’s been commenting/kudo-ing. It’s so nice to hear your writing is resonating with folks. 
> 
> I also want to shout out @sapphose’s "Growth", which if you’ve been reading you might see the way it influenced this chapter. Also just more generally if you enjoy this work, I suspect you will also enjoy that one also.


	37. Certain Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian finally gets some of the answers he’s been looking for  
> (I promise you want to read this chapter)

After a 12 hour shift at the hospital Julian staggered out into the night, letting out a breath of relief. It was too long a day to even consider getting drinks with Toval, not least of which because the bar was already closed. Despite the clear hardship felt by his patients, he had to admit it felt good to be useful. The intensity of the work was soothing somehow, pushing all other concerns aside. It was easy to get lost in the work, to let it consume everything. Picking at scales for hours, in complete attention and focus. 

And why not? Things were better now with Garak, but Julian needed some distraction to keep his thoughts off Elim and his sharp blue eyes. So it was good to work hard and to feel tired, it was a welcome distraction. Now, with his work for the day complete, he was almost tired enough to not think of Garak. To not remember the way the Cardassian had looked at him as he’d headed to bed the night before. Was there something there? That was wishful thinking, wasn’t it?

Dr. Bashir was looking down as he walked out of the hospital, and consumed in thought. He did not see that Kelas Parmak was waiting for him outside until the man was feet from him. Julian jumped slightly, while Parmak remained completely still. 

“Hello, Julian,” Parmak said, his voice sounded serious. The air had a chill, and a slight breeze caught Julian. 

“Er.. hello Kelas. What do I owe this late night visit?” As was sometimes the case, Kelas seemed to have an unnerving ability to throw Julian off balance. 

“When you next visit your office… which I know you do so rarely these days, you will find a message from StarFleet offering you a posting on the USS Saratoga. As I understand it this would be a serious promotion for you.”

“How would you know that? Have you been reading my subspace communications?” Julian asked accusatorily. He steeled himself, fighting his body’s autonomic response. He just had to keep a level head and a steady heartbeat. Really it was just Kelas, he reminded himself. 

“Because I also controlled your most recent re-assignment,” Parmak replied. A grin played about the man’s mouth, sly and shielding. 

“You what!?” Julian knew his face must look comically shocked, but he found himself unable to school it. 

“I brought you here.” He said it like he was stating the capital of the Cardassian Union or how many hours in Cardassian day. “Elim would go on and on about you. I heard a new praise of you every week for a year. I thought, if you came here the thing between you two would be resolved one way or the other. Well, you’ve certainly proved me wrong on that account. And of course beyond that you seemed to have a track record of saving planets, something which Cardassia was sorely in need of. What do you humans say? Two birds one stone.” 

“So Section 31 didn’t send me?” Julian asked, hoping for further clarification. His pulse had picked up considerably. 

“Oh no, they did. I work for Section 31.” Kelas smirked. His silver hair shown in the dim moonlight, and his green eyes were unreachable and far away. 

“You work for Section 31?” Julian could hear how dumb he sounded repeating Kelas, but couldn’t stop himself. A slight wind blew and he shivered. He saw one of Cardassia’s moons rising to the north. 

“We have a long term plan to get Cardassia to join the Federation. You’ve been most helpful by the way. The perception of the Federation here was quite poor, but now… well it’s much the opposite.” He looked quite self satisfied, it was somewhat infuriating. 

Julian’s head was spinning. 

“So to clarify, you’re saying mission accomplished and promoting me out?” Julian heard himself say, the words coming out more harsh than intended. 

“I’m saying you have an out if you want one,” said Kelas, taking a step towards Bashir. What was it about Cardassians that always made him feel like prey?

“Okay. So I assume you’re now going to make an argument to me one way or another on that?” Julian felt exhausted by it. Being constantly pulled places by someone or another, his actions and his choices manipulated so they were not his own. But he saw no strategic advantage to leaving while Kelas clearly had more to say. The man was never short on opinions. 

“Oh no. I merely have some more facts to divulge.” Kelas’ eyes twinkled; it was Garak-like. 

“More? How is there more?” Julian wanted to go home, to go sleep. 

“Garak gave you a key.”

“Yes, this one.” Julian held up the small gold key. “What of it?” 

“I take it no one has explained to you yet the significance of keys in Cardassian culture.” The look of amusement on Kelas face made Julian briefly consider forgetting his vow to do no harm. 

Julian let out a groan. Had there been anyone else in the street they would have turned to look at him, but there was only the wind. 

“No of course not. No one ever bothers to explain.” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping he wasn’t about to have a headache. 

“Different keys denote different relationships. A brass key might give to a housekeeper or gardener. Someone who you trust but consider inferior. A silver key is for close friends and family. Ones who you trust enough to give access to your home. A silver key is a high compliment,” Kelas explained. His emerald eyes seemed to pin Julian in place. 

“Okay and what about a gold key?” Julian asked, exasperation coloring his voice. All the same, he felt his heartbeat pick up again. 

“A gold key is as good as a will.”

Julian’s eyebrows shot up. No amount of augmented intelligence was sufficient for him to have ever guessed that answer. 

“A will?” He knew he sounded incredulous. He felt incredulous. 

“Yes, like a deed. It’s a bit old fashioned, but still legally binding,” Kelas continued. 

“I… didn’t know.” Julian’s brain stumbled to keep up, the gears grinding forward, trying to understand what such a gift meant. 

“No, I had gathered that much,” Kelas replied, eyes entirely too mirthful. 

“He gave it to me on my second day here,” said Julian mostly to himself. 

“Elim has always been a bit sentimental,” Kelas said with a wry smile. 

Julian’s head was spinning, his heart was racing. 

“Is it a…”

Kelas cut him off. 

“No. No! No, you’ll have to ask Elim that. There’s only so much I am willing to meddle. But you should ask him, or you should take the promotion. Have one honest conversation with Elim Garak or leave Cardassia. I don’t care which.” Parmak’s voice picked up in volume, he seemed almost angry now. 

“Kelas, I’m confused. I didn’t think you liked me for Garak. In fact, it’s you who recently set him up!” Julian exclaimed, a look of consternation coming over his face. 

“And didn’t that setup go quite poorly?” Kelas tilted his head, waiting for a response. 

“I…” 

“Julian, if I thought Garak should marry a nice Cardassian woman, I would have brought someone remotely suitable. And I still can. I believe the human phrase would be fish or cut bait. You have had Elim on the line nearly 8 years, so I think you really ought to be ready to make a decision.” Kelas raised his eye ridges to emphasize the point. 

“Okay. Yes. You’re right. Thank you, Kelas. I really had better get going.” 

Julian turned and took off in a sprint, not even looking back to see Kelas’ expression. The weight of the day, and of his long shift totally forgotten. The cold air rather than annoying seemed to buoy him. Dust flew up behind him, as his feet padded rhythmically on the ground. Hope bloomed in his chest. Kelas’ words thudded through him like a new heart beat, ragged with desire and anticipation. 

_ the key, the key, the key  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um Kelas has been playing 4D chess. Did you see this coming? I'm dying to know.
> 
> Your comments and kudos are lifeblood.


	38. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taste before the main event

Garak sat at his desk, piled high with work on the constitution. Would there be a central command? Would there be a new intelligence agency? How much power would the civilian government have? When Kelas had convinced Garak to join, he was overly optimistic on the timeline at which compromises were likely to occur. So far it had been so arduous work with no end in sight. And it was work he hated too. 

The only good part of his day was seeing Julian, and Garak was convinced that his time with his human friend was likely drawing to a close. For all the doctor’s talk of finding a home, Garak couldn’t understand why the man expected to find that on Cardassia. Desert, and broken infrastructure, and work was all that Cardassia promised now. Duty upon duty. 

Beyond any fathomable understanding, Julian seemed to behave as if he had some duty to Cardassia. It was maddening. How was he supposed to stop thinking about kissing the man under such circumstances? It was intolerable. 

And really how could he not love him? Nearly a decade ago, his life had been ending. And then, all of a sudden, it wasn't. With the wire out, and a whole dull life stretching out into the distance, no hope of ever returning home, there he was. His very existence was bright and warm and hallowed (though Cardassians lacked such a concept, he found it necessary to borrow Terran ideas in this one instance). 

Sometimes when he was feeling sentimental, Garak would think back to the holosuite, to being shot in the neck. Julian had lied; his augmented aim was surely good enough that he wasn’t shooting to kill. That revelation, nearly a year later, had only sweetened the memory in Garak’s mind. 

He was kindness, weaponized. 

He was no less incisive than Garak, nor less dangerous if he wanted to be. But he never seemed to want to be. It was only through the man’s ridiculous goodness that he surpassed Garak. By sheer force of will he had shamed the Federation into an act of great generosity. He was a marvel. 

_How did I ever imagine he could love me?_

It was the most important friendship of his life, he realised. _And I almost pushed him away._

Julian could have left when Garak asked him to. That would have been the easy way out. That would have been the way out for someone who knew when to quit. Julian certainly didn’t know when to quit. 

It still confused him, how a man so selfless and kind could manage to be so sloppy in his correspondence as to not write for five months. Surely, now it was forgiven, but it was not understood. The problem, with loving someone so selfless, and so good, was they could usually be counted on to do something kind. The unkindness of that particular gesture remained uniquely baffling. 

It was not worth thinking about any longer. Julian would never feel quite the same about Garak as Garak did about him. He could be okay with that. He had to be okay with that. Because when it came down to it, it wasn’t worth putting their fragile friendship in danger for something as silly as an old man’s sentiments. He would never broach the topic with the doctor, he swore to himself. In all likelihood, the doctor had figured him out years ago. But why ever admit to it? Certainly nothing could be gained. Placid denial would do well enough if he was ever confronted on the matter. Tolan, a gardener, had warned him against secrets, but it seemed he was destined to linger in Tain’s shadow instead. 

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the office door. Garak blinked coming back to himself and before he could respond, Julian burst in, looking positively manic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time to answer the question: what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Speculation and frustration are always welcome in the comments.


	39. Bridge the Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is finally a conversation

Julian was still running when he got to the house; there were after all some advantages to his augmented lung capacity. It was getting late, but Garak still might be awake. Julian opened the door to Garak’s office, only thinking to knock when the door was half open. The knock came out overly fast and loud. 

“Good evening, Doctor. How can I help you?” Garaked sounded calm, if a little surprised. He wore a smile half curious, half composure. 

“Garak. We’re going for a walk,” he heard himself say. 

“Really? We are?” Garak asked, clearly intrigued by the turn of events. 

“Yes.” Julian commanded his voice to be steady and stern. 

“Okay, doctor.”

Julian was surprised to hear no complaints from Garak, who instead grabbed a beige shawl from the back of his chair to cover his shoulders and followed Julian out of the house into the cool night. 

It was clear, and unusually cold. Jullian felt bad hauling Garak into the night, especially with the temperature as it was, but as it was he could not ask Garak about the key to the house in the house itself — it was Tain’s old house no less. That was too much, even for him. On top of that, he was not convinced Elim would be entirely forthright, and thus he felt he needed some advantage in setting. So Julian headed north, ahead of Garak, leading them both to the park he had once collapsed at. It seemed fitting. They would have it out there. 

They walked in silence, north, up to the stone footbridge. The stream below was fuller now, where before there had been only a trickle, it now coursed with water. Julian was walking fast and Garak struggled to keep up, trailing behind him. Finally, in the middle of the bridge, Garak called out to Julian. 

“Doctor what is the meaning of this? I was just about to go to bed.” Garak sounded quite put upon. 

Julian swiveled to face Garak, and took several steps towards him. They were both on the bridge now, the water flowing beneath them strong and steady. This would do, Julian thought to himself. He mentally steadied himself, taking a breath before he began to speak. 

“Garak, may I ask you something?” 

“You can alway try, doctor,” Garak said. He sounded like his usual self now, as if Julian had not hauled him into the night without explanation. 

“On my second day on Cardassia Prime you gave me a key.”

“Yes,” said Garak. His face remained neutral, twitching only slightly at a sudden cool breeze. 

“Somewhat more recently, I learned that a gold key is as good as a will. And you gave it to me having been here less than a full day, having not written to you in months.” Julian looked into Garak’s eyes, hoping to find answers. He found none. 

“It has been said before that I am overly sentimental.” Garak’s lips twinged at a smile that did not reach his eyes. 

Julian took a step towards Garak, blocking his way. The water rushing below them was loud, filing the silence Garak had left. 

“No Garak. Today that’s not good enough. Tell me why.” Julian’s voice came out harsh but steady. 

“You know why. You’ve always known.” There was a bitter edge to Garak’s tone. 

“I don’t and I haven’t.” 

There was a pause, a moment of silence, the wind whistled cold and clear. Garak was beginning to look angry. 

“Why are we having this conversation now? Hoping for some heartfelt confession from me before you pack up and leave, Doctor?” It came out in a snarl, harsh and angry.

“Leave? When did I ever say I was going to leave?” Julian asked, his voice betraying confusion. 

“You saved Cardassia. You’re the hero, Dr. Julian Bashir. You can go save somewhere else now! The public health situation is improving by the day. Your work is done here! ” Garak shouted. He was in Julian’s face. Julian could feel his breath on his face. 

“Are you asking me to leave again?” Julian asked, doing his best to remain calm. 

“I don’t think I need to ask. You will leave,” Garak replied, turning and looking down at the water below. 

“Why are you pushing me away? Why did you give me this?” Julian held the small gold key aloft, in front of Garak’s face. The key glinted in the moonlight, drawing Garak’s eye. 

“Now, doctor, it is you who is not good enough. You expect me to believe with your augmented intelligence you’ve been blind to me for 8 years? No, doctor I think it’s time you stopped playing dumb to spare my feelings!” Garak turned back to face him, his voice unrestrained bitterness hurled at Julian. 

“Spare your feelings? So you’d rather me ask you outright?” Julian felt himself breathing heavily, and exasperation creeping into his tone. 

“Yes, if you’re not too cowardly.” Garak’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. 

“Fine then. If that’s how you want it. I will ask…” Julian took a breath, and held the small key high aloft. “Is this as good a marriage proposal?”

Garak took a sharp intake of breath, looking like a Cardassian vole caught in a jefferies tube. Almost immediately, he reconstructed himself. 

“A marriage proposal? Whatever would give you that idea?” Garak’s face was a cool mask, a gentle smile, completely fake. 

“Oh come on, Garak! You made me read _The Never Ending Sacrifice_ twice! The family home was a transparent symbol of marriage in 4 of the 7 generations. I have a perfect memory by the way; I really didn’t need to read it twice!” Julian’s voice came out loud and frustrated. 

“A fascinating reading, doctor, but never one I've encountered.” Garak smiled like a cheshire cat, as if he was completely in control of the conversation. 

“Bullshit! The symbolism is blatant and uncreative. But I'm not here to argue literature. You didn't answer my question!”

“It’s as good as you’ll get out of me, Doctor.” Garak took a step back, and began to turn away from Dr. Bashir again, as if to walk back to the house. When the doctor began to speak, his voice was suddenly quieter and more controlled. 

“Elim, have you ever considered that in some situations you have more to lose by lying than by telling the truth?”

Garak froze in a half turn, neither pointed towards Dr. Bashir nor towards the house. Julian continued. 

“And surely, if you think I’m leaving there has to be some value in telling your angle? Or is it perhaps too sensitive, too close to the heart? The idea that I could hear you say it, and then leave anyway, perhaps that’s too much even for you?” 

“I…” Julian had never seen Garak speechless like this before. Even in profile, he looked pale, and visibly upset. Julian took several steps towards Garak, closing the space between them again. He placed a hand on Garak’s upper arm. 

“Elim, tell me once and for all what is between us,” Julian spoke softly, aware he was holding something tender. “You trusted me once. While Tain lay dying you didn't ask me to leave. Can you trust me again? There is only one thing you can say which would convince me to leave — that you would be happier with me gone. It would break my heart, but you should know by now that I will endure anything for you. You have my love whether you want it or not. Please, Elim, tell me that you want it.” 

“I have your love?” The surprise in Garak’s voice was nearly enough to make Julian wince — he stopped himself only just in time. Elim turned slowly towards Julian, his posture stiff as if to protect him from vulnerability. 

“Oh, Garak, I thought you knew. Garak… no.” Julian took a breath and looked into Garak’s eyes. It was like slamming from sky to earth. His heart thudded in his chest. “Elim, I thought you knew before I did. That I love you, that I’ve always loved you. That I always will. At the museum, I tried to make my intentions and feelings clear in a way that would be culturally appropriate. I thought you rejected me.” 

Garak looked almost dizzy. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say. But you hardly behaved that way. How can I reconcile that, Doctor?” 

“You’re right. I’ve been a fool. I loved you but I denied it, even to myself. I blocked it out of my mind. It was easier to ignore it. But some part of me understood that if I came here, I would have to confront it. And that was terrifying. Terrifying that you would not understand or appreciate my feelings for you.” Julian looked away, pausing, the eye contact suddenly too intense. He looked down at the stone, trying to anchor himself before continuing. 

“Elim, I was terrified of my feelings for you. You’re not an easy man to know. Even now, with the war over, with your days a spy over. You are comfortable, established, and yet you seem to covet your lies.” 

Julian looked back up into those blue eyes, blue eyes which searched him as he spoke. 

“Because, this is it for me.” Julian gestured between them with the hand that was not still on Elim’s upper arm. “This is not some casual affair like the ones you saw on DS9. No, once, if we go down this path, there will be no turning back for me. There is no testing the waters, Elim. This is it. You are my one great love. But you need to love me more than the lies. Or this won’t work. And, I think deep down I’ve always been afraid you can’t or won’t do that.”

Garak looked overwhelmed, bewildered. Julian kept going. 

“So, I’ll ask you one only more time. Was this meant to be a marriage proposal?” 

He held the key between them. It reflected the light of two Cardassians moons. Julian couldn’t tell which two. Even still, the key was the brightest thing in the sky. 

Water continued to flow beneath the bridge, the noise of its movement filling the silence. After a pause, Elim answered. 

“Yes.” It came out soft and breathless, as if Elim had run up a hill. 

“Is it still a marriage proposal?”

“It cannot be retracted,” Elim said matter-of-factly, but he looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. 

“I’m not asking about the intricacies of Cardassian engagement practices, Garak! While intriguing, I care much more about how you feel. If your feelings have changed, I will understand, and behave accordingly.”

“My dear doctor, my feelings have not changed in nearly seven years. In the past weeks, I have willed them to change with very little success. You are, simply put, lodged into my heart.” 

Julian took another step forward, bringing their bodies within inches of each other. He took Elim’s jaw in his hands, and leaned in, kissing him. Elim made a soft sound of surprise, but immediately reciprocated the kiss, closing the gaps between their bodies. As he enveloped Julian, his shawl fell to the ground, forgotten. The kiss was soft but insistent. Elim’s lips were cool and smooth. He tasted like rain after a long drought. 

Suddenly, the night was not so cold after all. 

After a moment, Julian pulled away from the kiss. Elim tensed. His eyes betrayed equal parts worry and hope. Julian continued to hold Garak’s face, cupping his jaw, trying with his body language to calm his companion's apparent concern. He leaned his forehead against Garak’s, and whispered, quiet and sure.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Elim Garak. I love you in every way a person can love another person. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner or show it better. If you will have me, I will endeavour to make up for it every day for the rest of our lives.” 

This time, Elim who dove in to kiss Julian. His mouth met Julian's smiling lips, their teeth momentarily clacking together in the haste of it, but swiftly recovering. Elim’s arms slinked around the human’s waist, pulling them close. It felt like reconciliation. It felt like going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the meat of this scene at least 3 months ago, and I kept reading it and thinking, “it’s not right. This isn’t right.” And after ages of feeling that way I realized it was right, the fic just wasn’t there yet. So any torture I put you through, was so this scene could feel earned. Did I succeed? Was it worth it? Or perhaps I needed more angst? Let me know in comments below <3
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and support with this fic. It honestly means the world to me.


	40. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soft morning on Cardassia Prime

Julian woke slowly, the lavender light of morning on Cardassia filtering in through the window. As the fog of sleep cleared, Julian realized his head was not on a pillow but on Elim’s shoulder. He was on his side, with his arm wrapped around Elim’s waist. Elim’s arm in turn wrapped around Julian’s back. 

Julian took a moment to feel present, to feel how happy he was. Elim’s skin was cool and surprisingly soft. Their bodies melted into one another, scale on skin. Almost immediately, Julian’s thoughts were pulled to the night before, the way their bodies had hungrily hurled into one another with the gravity of nearly a decade of anticipation. And certainly it had been worth the wait. 

He thought about the way Garak had looked at him after they kissed, conveying an understood and mutual impatience. He had merely tugged the man back home, to their home, and then to his bed. There had been moments of awkwardness, of newness, of not quite knowing the others’ desires, but mostly there had been earnest warmth and gentle eagerness. It tasted of promise, and of many more nights to come. 

Julian gave Elim a gentle squeeze around the middle, and turned his head to place a soft kiss on Elim’s shoulder. The scales were rougher there than the rest of Elim’s body, but they were still soft in their own way. 

Elim’s eyes blinked open languidly. 

“You’re still here,” he said fondly. There was a barely controlled wonder in his tone. 

“Oh, I don’t think you’re ever getting rid of me,” Julian replied, angling his head to make eye contact. 

“I wouldn’t dream of trying, my dear Julian.”

Elim’s black hair was loose, and cascaded down the terracotta colored sheets. It was the kind of beauty that made Julian’s heart jump into his throat, and made him wonder how he could have ignored those feelings for so long. 

“Good. I meant everything I said last night.” Julian smiled. 

“Well. I wouldn’t mind hearing it again if you’d like to refresh my memory.”

“Which part would like to hear, dear Elim? That I love you? That I was a fool? That I will happily marry you? Or perhaps when I told you how good it felt to be inside you?”

Elim hummed softly in contentment. 

“Mmmm yes, all those seem worth repeating.” Garak leaned his head over to place a small kiss on Julian’s forehead. 

“Perhaps I’m beginning to understand what you get out of the repetitive epic. Good stories are worth repeating.” Julian chuckled, snuggling into Garak. 

“I’m sure this is only one of many ways I will convert you to my way of thinking,” Garak replied with a gentle smirk. 

“But all the while I will slowly infect you with Federation idealism, until at last we agree on everything.” Julian let his hand move to Elim’s hair, running his fingers through it slowly. 

“Perish the thought!” Garak’s feigned horror was almost too convincing. 

“Don’t worry Elim, I promise I will always find something to argue with you about.”

“I would expect nothing less. Lack of arguing is considered reasonable ground for a divorce on Cardassia.” Garak’s eyes danced with amusement. 

“We’re not even married yet, and you’re already thinking of divorcing me?”

“Only hypothetically, dear.”

“Like how you hypothetically asked me to marry you?” Julian sat up and looked down at Garak’s cool blue eyes. 

Garak merely smiled, his face all innocence. 

“Speaking of which,” Julian continued, while moving his leg such that he sat straddled on Garak’s chest. “In future, I would really prefer if you would be so kind as to tell me when you want something. It’s really my only condition for our marriage. The good news for you is I will happily do almost anything for you, and any request which remains we may happily argue about.”

“Is such a request appropriate from a man who’s first attempt at a love confession was too subtle to be recognized?”

“You didn’t think even for a minute that I knew what I was doing?” Julian asked, his face betraying a gentle hurt. 

“It seems too optimistic an assumption. It was easier to assume you just didn’t know,” Garak sighed. “There was plenty of evidence that you were missing Cardassian social cues.”

“You can really only blame the teacher in such a case.” Julian smirked, enjoying the feeling of Elim’s torso between his legs. 

“On Cardassia, teachers are very esteemed. We would more often blame the pupil.”

“Elim, you’re distracting from my initial request. I don’t need total honesty. I would never try and wrest from you all your deceptions. It’s just that, for this relationship to work, you need to feel safe asking me for things. We need to be able to communicate about what really matters.”

Elim was quiet for a moment, as if considering the request. 

“In that case my dear would you be so kind as to stop sitting on my bladder?”

Julian smirked, and shifted back to lying down next to Elim.

“I will take that as an ‘of course, dear’”

“As you should,” Garak replied, placing another kiss on Julian’s forehead. His whole countenance was transformed by a dazzling smile. 

Elim in turn got up and padded towards the bathroom, the door for which was tucked into the corner of the bedroom. 

When Elim finished, he came and sat on the edge of the bed near Julian’s reclining form. 

“How did you figure it out? About the key…” Elim asked, with restrained curiosity. 

“I cannot believe it took you 10 whole hours to ask. I have to commend you for your discipline. Though I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll be horribly disappointed in me,” said Julian, placing a hand on Elim’s forearm. 

“Nonsense dear.” Garak shook his head. 

“I didn’t figure it out. Kelas told me to have a single honest conversation with you or to leave Cardassia.”

“And do you think, Doctor Bashir, that you made the correct choice?” 

“I think I did, Mister Garak,” Julian replied, sitting up and finally finding lips in a soft morning kiss. He promptly pulled Garak back into bed. 

***

The morning sex that followed was sweet and lazy and joyful. Julian was reluctant to get out of bed after, but the morning was fading fast, and they both had work to do. 

“Are you still planning to run for political office, Elim?” Julian asked as he dressed for the day. “You know I’ll support you, but I must say I think I will make a terrible political spouse.” 

Elim came up behind Julian, wrapping his arms around his middle. 

“I was never planning to run.”

Julian let out a rye chuckle, shaking his head. 

“Of course you weren’t. Well when the constitution is finished, what will you do?”

“With each passing day, I swear it will never be finished. I will expire and we will not have agreed on if there ought to even be a military. Nonetheless, I’m holding out hope. I heard Cardassia needed gardeners and tailors.” Elim smiled, placing a kiss on Julian’s bare shoulder. 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very sorry about the accidental three month delay to this chapter. Work and life got crazy and this fic was a casualty. 
> 
> One of the reasons I’ve been so slow to add to this is that I’ve been toying with the idea of a sequel, unfortunately while I’ve long since figured out how that work would begin and end, I cannot for the life of me figure out the middle. I hope to eventually give this fic an epilogue as well as a chapter that introduces the sequel, but it’s very tbd. I’ve decided the most likely way that will actually happen is by declaring this fic finished. So, I will for the meantime be calling this work complete; I feel I’ve left are boys in a good position, and if I come back later, that’s a nice bonus (hit subscribe if that’s a thing you want to be kept abreast of). 
> 
> I’d like to thank each and every person who’s read this, and anyone who has left comments or kudos. This fic and community have been a big source of comfort to me during the pandemic <3


	41. Afterword

I have decided to write the sequel. 

It will be tonally very distinct from this work. It will hopefully be interesting to read, but it won’t often be warm or fluffy. It’s about how this marriage really works, and future of Cardassia and the alpha quadrant in the shadow of the Dominion war. If you just want to stay in the warm and fluffy bits, best turn back.

You can read it here: [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348505/chapters/72088521)

Thanks again for all the love you have shown this work. <3


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